Looking On
by hallowgirlfrommars
Summary: Six months after Colleen's death, her younger sister, Isabelle goes to stay with the Hess family for the weekend. But when strange events begin, and she finds herself falling in love, what on earth will happen? Rated T just to be safe! First story!
1. Ominous

Looking On-

Chapter One

**Hi this is my first fanfic, just want to say I do not own signs or any of the characters ( cries)!Hope you enjoy it please read and review!**

The sunlight was hot on the ground. The air had a thread of barely contained heat. There was a tinge of summer in the air. I squinted ahead through the windscreen as I drove.

I grew up here in Bucks County, Pennsylvania,-me, my mom, my dad and my sister, Colleen. Colleen, my older sister-operative word being older. I was nine when she got married. She was twenty six. Go figure.

We were close, though, real close. I wasn't the most sociable kid and that's putting it mildly. You know how when you go to a birthday party and everyone's running around and there's always this one kid sitting in the corner reading a book? That was me.

Colleen was the opposite-always outgoing, confident, fill in the adjective. She was great and, like I said, we were pretty close, despite the age gap. Whenever I had one of my freakouts as a kid-about going out somewhere, eating the food I didn't like, having to go to bed too early-Colleen calmed me down. And generally, she made me do whatever it was I was freaking out about, which, with me, was often a kind of minor miracle.

I remember at her wedding to Graham Hess-the man I was on my way to see-I was the bridesmaid and, me being me, there were about fifty rehearsals beforehand to make sure I didn't drop anything or step on my sister's dress or something equally catastrophic. Colleen didn't come out and say so but you could tell she was pretty worried that her little sister might end up ruining the entire day by tripping up halfway up the aisle or spilling a load of food down my bridesmaid's dress or something along those lines. Which, actually, I don't think anybody blamed her for. I certainly didn't.

Anyway-this is going back about thirteen years, by the way-things went fine. I got up the aisle, holding my sister's train, without any major disasters. I managed to stand still and not fidget about during the service. And I didn't turn around and go the wrong way when it was time to exit the church after my sister and Graham had been happily married. Things were good-better than the rehearsal in which I stepped on the flower girl, dropped the confetti and, to top the whole disaster off, accidentally ripped my own dress. (Thank God we could fix it. There might well have been World War 3 if we hadn't, and not just from Colleen.)

And yeah, that was pretty much the pattern for the next thirteen years. Things went fine. In fact, they were great. Graham, two years older than Colleen, was-understandably-more like an uncle to me than a brother-in-law, which I was fine with. He and Colleen lived on this country farm-type thing, a few miles away from us, and I'd often go and stay for a few days. Graham had a younger brother, Merrill, a minor league baseball player, who was four or five years older than me, but I'd never met him-apart from a few quick "Hi's" and smiles at family functions when we were younger. He was away a lot-playing baseball.

I didn't particularly mind. Unsurprisingly, I wasn't the world's greatest sportswoman and, to be polite, I couldn't have given a damn about baseball so I was pretty certain to hang out with a baseball player-even a minor-league one-would probably have been a penance rather than a privilege in my case. I didn't even remember that much about him.

I'd be seeing him this visit, though. Along with Graham and Colleen's kids, Morgan and Bo. They wouldn't be a surprise-I'd seen them practically every day, up until six months ago.

Morgan was born when I was eleven, Bo when I was seventeen. Technically, I was their aunt, but trust me, they never called me that. A , it would have made me sound like an adult when I was probably less mature than them, and B, it would have been pretty stupid anyway, given the small age gap. But we always got on well-they were both pretty quiet, sweet kids-very intelligent but shy. Morgan looked like Graham and Bo resembled Colleen almost exactly.

I remember once, when Bo was about two, I was sitting with Colleen and Graham, watching the little girl request another glass of water-the old one was "contam-nated", apparently- and I spotted Colleen smiling at me.  
>"What?"I asked.<p>

"I was just thinking" my sister remarked. "How much Bo reminds me of you."

I stared at her. To be honest, I thought she might be losing her mind. Bo looked exactly like her. Everyone said so.

Naturally, this is what I said to her.

"How the heck does she remind you of me? Bo looks exactly like you. Everyone says so." I told her, waiting for her explanation.

Colleen smiled again. "She might look like me, but trust me, personality-wise, she reminds me of you." She grinned. "All her rituals. Water having to be just right. Quiet. Thoughtful. Exactly like you were." She nodded. "Trust me. I might be her mother, but Bo takes after you."

I thought about it. It did seem to make some sense. Maybe it was part of the reason I always got on so well with Bo and Morgan. I understood them more easily than I understood most kids.

"She'll grow out of it" Colleen told me then. "She'll always be a bit thoughtful but she'll get more outgoing, too. You did." She winked at me.

It was true. As I'd got older, I had grown out of some stuff. I'd started joining in more, hung out with more kids. I still wasn't that sociable-I was still, to be polite, _strange_-but I had friends, I spent time with people. Life was good. Better, at least.

Then, six months ago, I got a visit from my parents. And that visit was basically to tell me the worst news of my life.

My sister had been taking a walk in the woods when some exhausted driver fell asleep at the wheel, lost control of his car, crashed and hit her. She died less than half an hour afterwards while her husband was talking to her. That's what happened and there was no use dressing it up. No use dressing it up at all.

My parents came to my college to tell me. The sat with me in the dean's office and I waited to start crying. I waited and waited.

And I didn't. I couldn't cry. I couldn't even feel. What kind of person is that? Someone who doesn't even cry when their own sister dies. What kind of person did that make me?

Of course, I cried at some point-later on at the funeral, at the burial,-but, somehow, it didn't work. It didn't relieve anything. It didn't make anything feel better or even easier. It just felt hard and painful and difficult and I didn't feel any more released than I had before.

I still felt like that. Like there was a hard knot in the centre of my stomach, behind my eyes. It was always there, a constant reminder, a constant ache. And, of course, the constant, constant, constant longing, missing, desperate aching for my sister, for her comfort, for her jokes, for her happiness, for her love and for her acceptance.

And it was the same for Graham. But worse, even. He was locked into his own grief, for months and months. He had been at Colleen's side as she died, he'd watched it happen. He had been the first one the police called. He had lost his wife and Morgan and Bo had lost their mother.

At the funeral, he'd stood there, his face tight, watching the coffin as it was carried up the aisle. His brother-who I still hadn't seen properly-was in the row behind us, I knew. I stood four people away, with Morgan and Bo on one side and my parents on the other.

The little boy and girl's faces were white and drawn. As I watched, Morgan pulled out his inhaler, raised it to his lips and sucked in a breath. His eyes were bloodshot from weeping. Bo stood silent, her little face tense, her eyes the saddest I had ever seen on a child. I reached out and took her hand and she leaned into me, her expression etched with silent grief.

I didn't say anything. What on earth was there to say? It seemed impossible to me that that coffin, that coffin that seemed so small, could contain my sister. It was still impossible to believe that the next time I went over to the Hess farm, she wouldn't be there, laughing, swinging Bo on her hip, ruffling Morgan's hair, smiling as she kissed Graham on the cheek. It was still inconceivable to me that my sister was dead.

The whole service had seemed surreal to me, like a dream, a nightmare. I'd watched the priest speaking but hadn't heard. I couldn't hear anything. None of it was real. Until Graham spoke.

The priest had been reciting some gobbledegook about God and forgiveness and unexplained events when I heard Graham's voice, low and wretched.

"Well, God wasn't there, was he? God wasn't there for us. He wasn't there for Colleen. Where was He, then?"

Morgan flinched and Bo curled tighter into my side. I stared at Graham. His voice was low-and I don't think many people had heard him-but I still stared. It was his wife's funeral. I knew he was angry and I'd have been-surprised is putting it mildly- to hear it from anyone, but compounding matters was the simple fact that Graham was a reverend. He believed in God. He practically believed in God for a living.

And now here he was, insulting him at his wife's funeral. You could say it was a little out of character.

I patted Bo's head and stared at my sister's coffin. A coffin carrying the woman whose death had ripped us all apart.

Graham resigned from the church a few weeks later and I heard that Merrill had moved in to help out. I'd visited Graham a few times in the last few months-but this time was different. This time, I was staying for a few days-something I hadn't done since before that fateful night six months ago.

I gritted my teeth. There was no use dwelling on things, now. No use dwelling on what I could or couldn't have done. Absolutely no point ...

_You could have been there_ said the voice in my head.

I shook it furiously. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't ...

_You could have been with her_

Shut up. Shut _up_...

_You might have been able to save her ..._

"STOP IT!"

It was only then that I realised I had shouted out loud.

I braked sharply, skidding to a halt and looked around. The road was deserted; mine was the only car in sight for at least a mile.

I sat, quietly, leaning over my steering wheel, closing my eyes tight. _Just ignore it...Just ignore it, Isabelle_ I told myself. I rubbed my hands over my eyes, feeling them sting sharply against the light.

_It's not real...it's not real..._

I squeezed my eyes shut once, then opened them.

_It's not real ..._

I blinked once, sat up straight and set the car in gear. I turned round and headed for the Hess farm, putting all memories of that night out of my mind.

Five minutes later, I pulled up outside the Hess house. I'd been here so many times, I didn't even bother ringing the doorbell anymore; I just walked straight in. As a kid, I used to share a room here with Morgan and Bo when I stayed for weekends. We used to camp out in the living room, me telling them the stories they loved, while pretending we were sitting in a tent on an African plain or hiding in a dense rainforest. But these days, it was different. I was an adult now, technically-twenty-one. And for a few years now, I'd slept in the little spare room off the corner of the landing. Colleen always joked that that was "Isabelle's room" because I was over there so often. This would be the first time I'd been here overnight without her.

I'd been nervous when Graham had suggested it. I'd been over for dinner and stuff a few times since it happened and Morgan and Bo had spent the day at ours but this would be the first time I'd stayed for the weekend and I couldn't explain to myself why that was such a big deal.

"Morgan and Bo really miss you" Graham told me over the phone. "They've been asking for you to stay over for weeks."

I twisted the phone wire around my finger."Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure" Graham sounded surprised by the question. "Why wouldn't I be?"

I didn't know. Like I said, I couldn't explain it, even to myself.

But I really missed Morgan and Bo. And I wanted to see them really badly. And I couldn't stand the thought of letting them down. That's a lot of ands.

"OK" I said. "I'll come." Feeling I could muster a little more gratitude-after all Graham didn't _have_ to have me over-he was doing me a favour- I said "Thanks for having me."

Graham laughed. "Isabelle, since when have you ever said _thanks for having me_?" I shrugged-though he obviously couldn't see me-and laughed too, relieved to hear him sounding so-I don't know-normal.

"Well, the kids will be pleased" Graham continued. "They've been bugging me about it for weeks." I could guess. The last time they'd dropped me back home after dinner, Bo had hung onto my leg and refused to let go, resulting in one of the only mini-tantrums I've ever seen her throw. Morgan hadn't been much better.

"You'll stay over soon, right?" he asked me from the backseat of the car.

"Of course" I told him, leaning in to give him a kiss on the head, while waving to his sister, being strapped back in the other side.

"Next weekend?" Morgan had asked, his face lighting up slightly.

"Well...maybe" I told him, hesitating. His face fell slightly.

"But soon, right? That way, you'll be able to meet Uncle Merrill. You've never seen him before!" I nodded and looked at the ground, but in the following days I hadn't been able to erase the memory of Morgan's hopeful look from my mind. So, now, on the phone with his father, of course I said yes.

"That's great" Graham told me now. "You'll be able to meet my brother finally!" I laughed again. It was time I did meet Merrill-it was bizarre we still hadn't been introduced properly.

"Seriously" Graham said. "I'm glad you're coming-even the dogs have been missing you! Especially Isabelle!" The fact that, at the age of six, Morgan had insisted on calling the new large family German Shepherd Isabelle after me, was a standing joke in the Hess household and in my own. Their other dog was called Houdini. Go figure.

"When should I come over?" I asked. Beforehand, there wasn't much formality to these visits-I just turned up sometime Friday night or Saturday morning.

We sorted it out that I would drive over early Saturday morning and I could drive back Monday, since I had a day off. I was actually pretty much looking forward to it.

So, understandably, as I climbed out of my car, I was pretty happy. That's when I saw the police car outside.

After staring at the thing for about ten seconds (not really that useful, looking back), I turned and headed straight for the house. My mind was whirling as I started to run. What the heck was going on?

There were about twenty questions pouring through my brain as I burst through the front door; what had happened? Were the kids all right? Where was Graham?

I skidded into the hall and stared into the living room. It was empty.

"Hello?" I called, uncertainly. I walked through the room to the kitchen, noting the usual amount of half-full water glasses littering various surfaces. The kitchen looked normal; nothing moved, nothing out of place. However, as I stood still, I could hear some faint clanging coming from the basement.

"Hello?" I called out, again. I took a few steps across the room. The door at the bottom of the basement stairs was slightly ajar and I could hear something-some kind of thumping, and a lower, coarser sound as though something was being dragged heavily across the floor. I stood by the door, confused. "Morgan? Bo?" I listened hard but couldn't detect any activity from the ground floor. Frowning to myself, I shrugged, turned and began to descend the basement stairs. Maybe the kids were messing around down there or something...

Then something-some indefinable noise-made me turn my head towards the kitchen window. And there was Graham walking out of the corn-with a police officer.

My heart turned over for a minute with panic-what was wrong? Why were they in the corn? Had one of the kids gone missing?

My heart rate slowed as, looking closer, I spotted Morgan and Bo. They were playing on the jungle gym, thank goodness. I moved towards the back door.

Behind me, I almost thought I heard a sound –a voice, calling something-from downstairs, but I was already outside by then.

"Hi!" I walked towards them, jogging slightly across the lawn. "What's going on?"

My voice faded as I got closer. Morgan and Bo weren't playing. Morgan was sitting slumped on the ground, and from my vantage point, I could see his blue inhaler clutched in his hand. Bo was sitting on the jungle gym, curled in what was almost an upright fetal position. Graham was crouched below, talking to Morgan quietly.

And in front of them on the grass was a big German Shepherd dog- I wasn't sure which of the two it was- lying very still-with something sticking out of its throat.

I raced across the lawn.

"What-"I panted. "What happened?"

Nobody answered.

"Kids?" I placed my hand cautiously on Morgan's shoulder. He looked up and it was with a jolt that I saw he was crying .

"It-it was an accident" he told me, his voice shaking. "I didn't mean to. He-he fell on me-he was trying to get to Bo-"

Graham looked up at me for the first time. "Hey, Isabelle" he said in a voice so quiet that my heart thudded with fear. The policewoman-Caroline Paski, I recognised her from around town-bent down, beside him.

"What-what's wrong?" I asked, then realising it was a pretty stupid question, rephrased. "I mean-is Caroline just here for-" I gestured downwards.

"Houdini's sick" Bo announced, the first words she'd spoken since my arrival.

That solved the mystery of which dog it was then-I could never tell them apart.

Of course, seconds after I thought this, I shook myself furiously. How could I be thinking like that when Morgan and Bo were so upset? Honestly.

I reached up to tousle Bo's hair and she held out her arms. I lifted her down and hugged her close as Graham helped Morgan to his feet. I stared at the police officer.

"Hey, Isabelle" she said, in one of the flattest tones I'd ever heard. Naturally, this really filled me with confidence.

"What happened?"I half-whispered, over Bo's head. Bo curled into me, watching Caroline with a guarded look.

Caroline sighed, and flung her hand out in a gesture of hopelessness. "I got a call from Graham that someone had been messing around with their crops-he asked me to come down and check it out. It's probably local pranksters-I was just telling him that when we heard-"She paused.

"What?" I asked.

But our conversation was broken up by Graham's voice. He was standing, with his arm around his son.

"I'm so sorry, Morgan" he said. There was nothing else to say.

Morgan pushed away his father's hand and walked into the house. We all stood in silence, watching him go.

Graham sighed and turned to me, holding his arms out. I passed Bo over and, turning again, he carried her towards the house.

I followed, with Caroline.

"What did you hear?" I asked her, as we walked back up the lawn together.  
>She sighed. "Nothing, amazingly" she told me. "That was what tipped Graham off. When kids aren't making any noise, something's wrong."<p>

I didn't say anything, but privately disagreed. I'd known Morgan and Bo for years, and they were pretty quiet in general. Still, who was I to tell her she was wrong? I didn't have kids.

"We got out of the corn and-well-we found that." She gestured back to the dog. She sighed. "There's been a lot of this sort of thing happening around here recently-strange stuff, animals acting funny-some of them-" She glanced at me.

"What?" I asked.

She sighed again. "Well-some of them violent." She glanced up again, waiting for my reaction.

I nodded, taking this in.

"Actually" Caroline muttered, slowing. "I might just go back and take a look at that dog..."

She turned back as I sped up, running slightly to catch up with Graham and Bo, who were by now, almost at the house. As I watched, the door banged open, and a younger man walked out.

"Isabelle?"

I looked up at Bo's voice. "What, baby?" I asked .

"Do you think-"

Bo was cut off by Graham's voice, sharp and sudden. "Where were you?"

The younger man approached, and I glanced up briefly, before returning my gaze to Bo's face, as she said "Houdini's sick."

"Tie Isabelle up to the back of the shed, please and make sure the knot's very tight." Graham told the younger man.

I stopped. "What?"

Graham, paused and turned to look at me. "Oh" he chuckled. "Not you, Isabelle!"

"Oh, the other dog!" I said, truly astonishing myself with my own denseness. I mean, of course it was the other dog! What the heck had I been thinking?

Graham laughed again, though the sound was strained and forced. He turned back to the house. "Oh, by the way," he said over his shoulder. "Isabelle, this is my brother Merrill; Merrill, this is Isabelle, Colleen's sister." I sensed the mental wince on my sister's name. I flinched slightly myself-it had been six months and I still wasn't used to this. This-the whole fact of my sister not being with us anymore.

I shook myself mentally-something I was doing a lot lately. "I'll go with him" I told Graham, turning back again. From my vantage point at the top of the lawn, I could see Caroline bent over Houdini's body, and as I watched, she yanked at the weapon that had brought about his death. I winced slightly, as she laid it on the grass. I couldn't see properly from this distance, but it looked like a barbecue fork.

"God" said Merrill beside me. "What the hell happened?"

I turned and stared at him.

So this was the famous Merrill-finally. I'd never seen him properly before in my life-not even a photograph. And I found myself staring and staring, unable to look away.

He wasn't conventionally good-looking-not like the flop-haired, flawless-faced pop stars my friends at college still idolised. He was a good head taller than me, and his hair was cut short, with eyebrows that crinkled together in a frown of confusion. His skin was pale and smooth, and as he glanced towards me, I noticed there was a strange scar above his lip, that caused his mouth to curl up slightly sometimes. His eyes were unusual, though-a curious, almost unearthly blue-green, that stared at my face, with a strange kind of depth.

I stared at him, for a moment, then looked away quickly.

"Oh" I said, my voice wavering slightly, everything I'd been planning to say going out of my head. "I-I think the dog died."

Perfect. Just perfect, Isabelle. You finally come face-to-face with Graham's mysterious younger brother and what do you say. "I think the dog died." Well done. Aside from stating the obvious, I'd made myself look like the most tactless idiot on the planet. Fantastic.

"Really?" Merrill said, not seeming to notice my idiocy-though I caught him shooting me a quick appraising look. "What happened?"

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Just calm down, I told myself. You do not need to make an idiot of yourself in front of him. Just breathe in and talk normally.

"You okay?" I heard Merrill ask. He was watching me with a concerned look on his face-probably wondering if Colleen's little sister had a screw loose or something.

I took another breath. "Yeah-yeah, sorry" I told him, forcing my lips into a smile, which probably looked something like a rather unpleasant grimace.

He nodded, though he cast me another curious glance.

"I'm not sure what happened" I told him, my voice stronger now. "I just got to the back and Morgan and Bo were sitting with the dog. I think something happened with the barbecue fork-Houdini was trying to get at Bo or something and Morgan got in front of her. It-wasn't too clear." I finished, hoping my explanation sounded at least halfway sane. I gave him a quick sideways glance. "I'm Isabelle, by the way. Isabelle Henderson-I'm-I'm Colleen's sister-" My voice trailed off as Merrill turned and gave me the sympathetic look I had come to expect when I mentioned Colleen.

"Yeah, I know" he said, slightly awkward, to my surprise. "I'm Merrill, Graham's younger brother. I'm Morgan and Bo's uncle-"For some reason, he looked kind of embarrassed-God knows why, I was the one making an idiot of myself, not him.

He turned quickly and focused his attention on Isabelle the German Shepherd, pulling at her lead. I stood awkwardly, waiting for her to move.

"What happened this morning?" I asked him. "I mean, with the crops and stuff-Caroline said you guys called 'cos there was a problem-"

"Yeah, there is" Merrill told me, unravelling the lead so that Isabelle could walk behind us. "The kids found it. Someone's been fooling around with the cornfields-"

I frowned to myself. What on earth had happened?  
>"It's no big deal" Merrill assured me, catching my worried look. "It's just some idiots messing about. They'll get caught."<p>

"What did they do to the corn?" I asked.

Merrill rolled his eyes. "Stupid stuff-just made random shapes, kind of-you know, crop circles?" I blinked, astonished.

"Crop circles?" I asked. I knew about them-I'd been really into all that sort of stuff as a kid. I used to spend my nights from the age of around ten to twelve, staring out my bedroom window, desperate to see some kind of UFO, getting excited about every low-flying plane I saw. I might have grown out of that obsession, but I was still interested in anything to do with aliens, or UFOS or any kind of supernatural stuff.

Merrill laughed. "Yeah, that kind of crap!" he said. Catching the look on my face, he rolled his eyes again. "It's not real!" he told me. "It will just be some teenagers messing around!"

I was staring back towards the cornfields. "How could you see them?" I asked. "I mean, we're on the ground-like the corn. How could you see the shapes from here?"

I winced again. _ We're on the ground like the corn. _How the hell had I come out with that?

Merrill sniggered, clearly picking up on the obviousness of my remark. Then, noticing me cringing, he seemed to decide to be helpful. "The kids saw it first" he told me. "You can see it from their window."

I stared at him. "Can we take a look?"

I stood nervously outside the door to Morgan and Bo's room. Fixing a smile on my face, I tapped on the door. "Can I come in?"

Morgan was sitting on the bed, staring at his lap. Looking at him, clearly thinking about his dog, and what had happened, I felt a rush of affection, and walked over to sit down beside him.

I put my arm around his shoulders. "Morgan, it wasn't your fault," I told him. He sniffed, but didn't speak. I stared at him, knowing that right now, whatever I had to say, wouldn't help.

"I'm sorry" I told him. Morgan nodded slightly, then leaned against me, putting his head against my shoulder. I sighed, hugging him, and staring at the top of his head worriedly.

"You guys okay?" I looked up to see Merrill standing in the doorway, with Bo beside him. "Caroline's just leaving-Graham's seeing her out." he said, in a sentence that seemed addressed to me.

"Right" I nodded.

Merrill cleared his throat. "Um-the dog-Houdini-they thought it might be best if-" He ducked his head slightly, looking awkward again. I stared at him, wondering what was wrong. At the same time, I noticed he was shifting from one foot to the other in a gesture of slight nervousness. As I watched, I realised it was actually kind of cute. What was he trying to tell us?

Bo said it for him. "Daddy said Caroline's going to take Houdini away." She told us quietly. Her head fell forward and I could see her lower lip trembling. I felt a sharp pang in my heart.

"No!" Morgan cried, leaping upright. "Why are they taking him away?"

Merrill closed his eyes. "Morgan-"he said.

But Morgan wouldn't stop. "He was our dog! Houdini was _our_ dog! They can't just take him away!"

"Morgan, it-it's too late" Merrill said, looking as if he'd rather be telling Morgan anything than this. "Caroline will have left by now-and she'll have taken Houdini with her."

"It's not fair!" Morgan cried. I stood up, putting my arm round his shoulders. "Why couldn't we have buried him? We could have given him a nice burial! We could have-"

"Daddy said it would be better not to" Bo informed us, still quiet. With her head ducked, she shuffled into the room. She didn't say anything but came to stand beside me. I leaned down and hugged her.

Merrill came over to stand beside me. I felt my cheeks flush automatically, and lowered my head, not knowing quite where to look, as my arm brushed against his. He leaned over to whisper something.

"Graham thought it might be easier, less upsetting, if the kids didn't-"He gestured with his hand. "See any more than they had to."

"Aah" I nodded, understanding. I could see why Graham didn't want the kids to be any more upset than they had to be.

But now Morgan _was_ more upset. It would have meant more to him to be able to say goodbye to a pet he loved.

"You don't have to whisper, you know" he informed us. "I can _hear_ you."

I sighed, as Morgan pulled away from me. He turned and stalked towards the window.

I followed aimlessly, lifting Bo into my arms as I did so. She buried her face in my shoulder. I stroked her hair as we walked towards the window.

"Woh" I said under my breath. "What the hell-"

The fields of corn crops, stretched as far as the eye could see, were punctuated throughout the centre, with huge symbols. Wide areas of corn had been flattened, crushed to create strange shapes, that filled the field of crops and seemed to stretch for miles.

"The dogs were running around in it" Morgan told me, in a flat monotone. "They woke us up, barking. Me and Bo-"

"I thought it was in my dream." Bo interjected softly. Her little arms wound around my neck.

"We went outside and-" Morgan gestured with his hands. He didn't need to say any more. I stared out of the window over his head.

"Wow" I murmured, as I gazed at the crops. "That's-wow." My vocabulary was really on track today.

Loud footsteps behind us alerted us to Graham's presence in the room. He walked up to Morgan and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Morgan-"

He didn't get any further. Morgan whirled round. "Why didn't you let us keep him?" he shouted.

Graham didn't pretend not to know what his son was talking about. "Morgan, I'm sorry" he said. "I did what I thought was best. I didn't want you to see him like that. I thought it would be too upsetting-"

"You went to see Mom when she died!" Morgan yelled, the words almost yanked from his throat. "You didn't find that too upsetting!"

A huge silence filled the bedroom.

Bo froze, with her head still buried in my shoulder. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Merrill was still, staring at Morgan, his eyes wide, as though he couldn't believe what his nephew had said. He turned and reached out to his brother, placing a wary hand on his arm.

Graham stepped away. He stood very still and stared at Morgan, with a look on his face that was unlike any other that I have ever seen. Morgan stared back, tears reappearing in his eyes. Everyone was still.

Graham was the first to move. He stepped back, away from us. Merrill watched him, nervously.

"Mom has nothing to do with this." Graham kept his eyes on Morgan as he spoke. He moved backwards. "Mom has nothing to do with this." He repeated the phrase quietly, as though to give it extra weight. I stared at him, keeping my arms round Bo, still with one hand in her hair.

Very slowly, Graham turned and walked out of his children's bedroom. None of us tried to stop him.

Merrill, Bo and I all stood in silence. Morgan stared at the doorway through which his father had just walked. There were tears pouring down his face. I watched him, feeling my heart twist in my chest.

"Dad" Morgan's voice cut through the silence like a blunt knife. "Dad!" Without a word to the rest of us, he followed his father out of the room.

Merrill, Bo and I stood where we were, not knowing what to do, what to say. But we didn't follow them. We sensed not to.

Bo pulled back from my shoulder slightly and I noticed the tears in her eyes. I leaned over and kissed her cheek. She blinked at me, her lips trembling again.

Merrill walked over and stood beside us, as though he didn't know what else to do. I looked at him. He stared straight ahead through the window, his lips firm, tight, holding it together. But he ducked his head again, and I could see the slight glimmer of liquid in his eyes.

I turned and stared straight ahead too, out at the late morning. The sun was high in the sky now, shining brightly. Standing there, not knowing what else to do, we all silently watched the crop circles from the children's bedroom window.


	2. In the Cornfields

**Thanks for the reviews and all the people who've read Chapter One! Ok, here's Part 2-hope you all like it!**

Lying in bed that night, I considered the events of the day. I thought about Morgan and what he'd said. I thought about Bo and how quiet she'd been. I though about Graham and how he hadn't joined us after dinner. I thought about what had happened in the cornfields.

And, strangely, more than anything, I thought about Merrill.

Sighing, I turned over in bed.

Suffice it to say, the rest of the day had not been particularly comfortable. Morgan had apologised to Graham, who had accepted the apology, but the atmosphere was still tense between them-understandably. Bo had spent most of the day sitting between the two, her little face drawn tight with anxiety, as she attempted, in her quiet four-year-old manner, to make conversation. I sighed and tried to keep her distracted-efforts which she went along with, but from the look in her eyes, saw for what they were.

This seemed to lead-unfortunately-to an increase in her water fixation. At the dinner table that night, she rejected six glasses of water in the space of five minutes, all with the same excuse.

"It's contaminated."

Morgan, sitting across the table, rolled his eyes. "Bo, it is not contaminated."

"Yes, it is." Bo stared at her brother across the table, wide-eyed in her conviction.

"Bo, baby, why don't you just try drinking one?" Graham asked wearily, pushing his hands through his close-cropped hair.

Bo shook her head, with pursed lips. "It tastes funny."

"Bo, we're all drinking the same thing as you." I pointed out gently. I knew how she felt. "I know how it tastes, but could you try to get through one glass, please?" I watched her anxiously.

Taking a deep breath, Bo lifted her glass and took a sip. I smiled.

But a second later, she screwed up her face and shook her head. I reached over to pat her on the back and quickly moved her plate away from her. Shuddering, she forced herself to swallow, but it was clear that she found the taste of the water unbearable.

"Are you okay?" I asked her, rubbing her back. She nodded, still shivering slightly from the taste.

Merrill leaned over, looking concerned. "Is she all right?" he mouthed to me. God knows why-Bo could see him.

I rolled my eyes. Perhaps it had something to do with only being twenty-one, but I really hated when adults said stuff or mouthed things or whispered thoughts about kids right in front of their faces and then acted as though the kids couldn't hear them or see them-as though children were just completely dumb or deaf and had no minds or feelings at all.

So maybe that was why my tone was slightly snappish when I answered. "She's going to be fine, Merrill. But maybe you should ask her that, not me. After all, she's in the room, and she can hear you, can't you, Bo?"

The instant the words were out of my mouth, I regretted the tone. It wasn't Merrill's fault. He wasn't to know how much that annoyed me. He'd simply been trying to help. And, judging from the slightly hurt look on his face as he nodded, he hadn't anticipated my reaction.

Bo sighed, sat up straight in her chair, and fixed her uncle with her slightly tense, blue-eyed gaze. "I'm fine, Uncle Merrill," she said, in her usual quiet tone, before her eyes dropped back to the plate again. I stared down at my own meal. "I'll get her another one" I announced, before grabbing Bo's glass and retreating to the kitchen area, to pour her another drink, barely hearing the little girl's instruction to "Use the cup with red on it!" and Morgan's reply of "That's my mug, Bo!"

Standing at the sink, and retrieving the requested red mug, I sighed and closed my eyes, my memory drifting.

"_Isabelle.."_

_I didn't look up from my food._

"_Isabelle.." _

_I still didn't look up._

"_Isabelle!"_

_My head jerked up this time, as Colleen tapped me on the shoulder. I stared to see her nodding frantically across the table at our father._

"_What's wrong, baby?" he asked me, puzzled and concerned. "What are you doing with all of your food?"_

_I looked down at my plate. All of my food-carrots, chicken, broccoli, potatoes, covered with the usual coating of thick brown gravy- was there. All arranged in the usual patterns._

_Colleen sighed. Our father didn't eat with us every night and so was not to know about this strange new ritual that had developed._

"_It's this thing she has.." my sister tried to explain. "She…" She waved her hands in the air as she attempted to articulate this latest in a long series of strange habits-all from me._

_Our father stared. "What?"_

_Our mother, carrying a bowl of fresh potatoes, answered for us. "She has to arrange the food in straight lines," she explained calmly, dishing more onto my plate. "And nothing can be touching. It's been like this for days. You'd have known if you'd got home from work earlier more often." Our parents exchanged brief stares, as did Colleen and I._

"_But-" my father stared at me, confused now. "Why do you need to do that?"_

_I stared at him. I didn't know how to answer. Colleen saved me again._

"_She doesn't know why" she told our father. "She just has to."_

_My father stared at me. "Then she can just as easily not do it, can't she?" He turned back to his plate, stuffing another forkful of chicken into his mouth, clearly under the impression that that was that-the conversation was over. I would stop my strange habits and life would go on._

_I stared, frozen at the thought of not performing my rituals._

_Colleen, noticing my expression, stepped in again. "I-I don't think it's quite as simple as that, Dad."_

_Dad stopped eating and stared at her. "Why isn't it?" he asked. "Why can't she just stop? It's not going to change her food. It's not going to make it taste different. Why can't she just stop?"_

_My eyes were hot and burning with liquid. I looked down at my plate miserably, hungry, but unable to eat, until I had done what I needed to do._

_Unknowingly, I began to rock slightly on my chair, biting my lip._

_My father noticed. He stared at me for a moment, before suddenly leaning back in his chair and pushing his plate away. He buried his face in his hands._

_I watched him, frozen, holding my breath. Now I'd made Daddy unhappy. And I'd upset Mommy and Colleen. And now people were mad at me. And I hadn't meant any of it._

_My eyes welled up with fresh tears._

_ "Sidewalk stepping. Door-checking. Patterns. Now this." He murmured the words, almost as if talking to himself. "When's it going to stop, Isabelle?"_

_I bit my lip and tasted blood._

_Lowering my gaze, I stared at my plate. I pushed the food back into order, the familiar sick, trapped feeling returning, when I noticed the potatoes were out __of line. Bowing my head, I began __ar__ranging things once again._

_There was __a heavy silence for the rest of the meal._

"Isabelle?"

My head jerked round to see Merrill standing behind me.

I turned back to the sink, awkwardly. I didn't know what to say. I've never been good with apologies or forgiveness. It's part of the reason it took me a while to make friends. Colleen always said it was to do with my shyness but I kind of assumed it might be down to me innately being a bit of a bitch.

Still, I liked Merrill. A lot. He was kind. He seemed pretty funny. He made his nephew and niece laugh.

Oh, who was I kidding? I liked him. I didn't need to think of reasons for it.

"Look, I'm sorry" I told him quickly. I figured I might as well apologise-things would be uncomfortable if I didn't and besides, it should be me who said it. I was the one who'd practically bitten his head off after all.

"What for?"

I rolled my eyes.

"You know what for. Just then, at the table. I didn't mean to bite your head off, OK? I was just-it just-" I closed my eyes in frustration at my inability to finish a sentence.

Merrill was silent for a minute. Then I heard his voice, quieter than usual. "That's OK." The words were definite, calm; evidence that the two-minute rift that existed between us was over. I exhaled with mild relief, glad the next few days wouldn't be too uncomfortable at least.

I considered telling him why I overreacted to his question. How it reminded me of being a kid. How it reminded me of being unable to eat my own food without dreading each mouthful, because I hadn't performed some stupid ritual right. How water always tasted strange to me, and how that was another weird tic I didn't dare add to the list. How my father had discussed me quite blatantly that day, in front of me as though I was stupid or deaf, and how I sat there, staring at my plate, and for a few moments wished to be completely invisible.

I could have told him all that then, but I didn't because I'd only met him a few hours ago, it would have been totally stupid and to be honest, he probably thought I was strange enough already.

So instead, I just turned to face him, with Bo's fresh glass of water in my hand. "I-I am sorry" I told him, feeling more awkward than ever. "I just-it's a touchy subject." I felt my face burning and looked down. It didn't help that Merrill was standing so close to me, and in the dimmer light of the kitchen, his eyes looked softer, gentler, more forgiving.

I quickly looked away.

"It's fine" he told me, sounding more certain this time. He moved past me to the sink, brushing my arm slightly. I blinked, ignoring the slight dip in my stomach at his touch.

"We were talking in there" Merrill added suddenly. "We might go outside and toss a ball about or something after dinner. You want to come?"

I nodded, wondering why he was bothering to ask me to go into the garden with everyone else when it's what I'd have done anyway. "Yeah, sure." I told him. "Thanks." God knows why I added that on to the end of the sentence.

He gave me a quick smile, which I returned without thinking. I turned and walked back to the table, Merrill right behind me.

I handed Bo the new glass of water. "How many has she gone through today?" I asked Graham. He seemed distracted, quiet, watching his son thoughtfully.

He looked up at me wearily. "Twenty-four…"

Morgan sniggered, as did Merrill. Graham chuckled and even I smiled. Only Bo remained serious and straight-faced, as she took a sip from her new drink.

"That's contaminated, too" she announced.

Merrill grinned and so did I as I took a sip from my own glass. I kept smiling, careful not to let the flavour show on my face. The flavour being the slightly bitter aftertaste to the water that only Bo and I seemed to sense.

"There you go!"

I laughed as Morgan caught the ball with only one hand. Due to lack of space and time, we were simply playing a game of catch in the backyard, before the kids had to go to bed. Graham had declined to join us; he was sitting on the porch watching with a strange, quiet look on his face. I stared at him and felt my heart ache with sadness as I knew who he longed for.

"Isabelle!" I turned to have the ball hit me hard on the arm and see Morgan laughing, as he handed another to his sister.

Bo stepped forward and threw her ball as hard as she possibly could but it fell short, landing on the ground less than three feet away from her. I felt a pang of sympathy as she walked forward solemnly to retrieve it.

"That was good, Bo!" Merrill called from behind me. "Just try and throw it a bit harder next time, OK?"

He gave me a quick smile and I grinned back. I loved how Merrill seemed to encourage Bo. It was something she might need, being shy. Something to bring her out of her shell.

Bo walked towards me. "Change sides" she announced, in accordance with a rule that apparently only she knew. Still, who were we to argue? Merrill and I quickly swapped places with the two kids, so we were now standing with our backs to the cornfields.

I shivered. Although I did not seriously believe the marks in the corn had been caused by anything other than pranksters, there was still something creepy about the whole business. And to be honest, there was just something about the crops altogether-the way anyone could hide in them, watching you, without being seen-that gave me the chills.

"Give us your best shot!" Merrill yelled to his nephew, who grinned and swung his arm back in preparation. Merrill glanced at me and suddenly reached over. "Careful; he'll hit you with the ball" he told me, pulling me back slightly by the arm, even though I was nowhere near Morgan. The feel of his hand made me smile.

"I'm nowhere near Morgan" I told him, just to see what he'd say.

A slight flush rose on his cheeks but he kept his gaze steady. As he smiled, I noticed the top of his lip curled slightly and somehow I couldn't tear my eyes away.

Of course, this was the perfect moment for Morgan to throw the ball as hard as possible and for the thing to fly straight between us and bounce right into the cornfields.

I froze.

"Where did it go?" Morgan yelled almost immediately. I squinted, peering into the fields, though I already knew.

"It went into the corn" I told them, as Merrill came to stand beside me.  
>"Seriously?" he asked me. I frowned and nodded.<p>

"Shi-"

I elbowed him hard, gesturing to the kids behind us.

"Darn," Merrill said, changing his remark pretty quickly. I raised my eyebrows.

Perhaps that was what made me say what I said next. I don't know why else I'd have done it. "I'll get it." I announced.

I could have bitten my tongue the second the words were out my mouth. I mean, seriously why the heck would I have volunteered to go and search for a small object in a bunch of fields I was now more than a bit scared of? Why?

"You sure?" Merrill asked me, raising an eyebrow himself. Which, somehow, made me more determined.

I guess-well, obviously we weren't going to send Morgan or Bo in to get the ball. But if Merrill went-

I don't know. I guess there was a part of me that was hoping he'd offer to go instead. But I wanted to volunteer first. God knows why.

Perhaps Merrill would have offered, but at that moment he was distracted by Morgan pulling at his shirt.

"We could get your baseball bat while Isabelle's getting the ball" he suggested. "We could play some baseball too!"

Bo nodded, her eyes shining.

To my surprise, Merrill shook his head. "Nah, kids," he said. "It's getting dark."

He took care to glance up at the sky which was still brilliant with sunset. I frowned at him, confused.

"Merrill's a great sportsman" Colleen had told me once. "But he always hits too hard. The ball always goes miles. He's got the record, you know." I didn't understand baseball at all, but I presumed this meant he was good.

Still-

"Fine" I told them. "I'll just get the ball."

And without a backwards glance, I walked towards the cornfields.

"Be careful!" I heard Morgan yell. I waved to him over my shoulder but kept walking. A few paces later, I stood directly at the edge of the cornfield.

I took a deep breath and with one quick glance over my shoulder, I walked into the corn.

The stalks seemed to smother all sound instantly; all I could hear was the muffled chirrups of crickets and the children's voices seemed very faint. All I could see was green crops and it occurred to me that if there was someone in here with me, I would have no way of knowing at all.

Shaking my head to clear it, I walked forward, searching the ground with my eyes. The ball must be nearby; Morgan couldn't have thrown it that far-

Something snapped behind me.

I whirled around to find nothing there.

I stood very still, feeling my heart hammer in my chest, beating so hard I was sure it could leave a bruise. _There's nothing there.. _I told myself. _There's nothing there.._

But a part of me suspected that was a lie.

Something cracked in front of me and I spun round again. And again, there was nothing and nobody there.

I froze where I was and listened. Logically, I knew Merrill, Graham, Morgan and Bo were only a few feet away but that seemed much, much further right now.

There was silence around me. Only the crickets and the occasional birdsong. And the sound of my own breathing, my own heartbeat.

Nothing.

I waited three seconds before moving. That was it. One more sound and I was go-

Something moved again. Again just behind me. But this time-

A clicking sound filled my ears. A sound I couldn't describe to anyone. It sounded like some kind of incomprehensible speech, a nonsensical dialect. But all it consisted of was sounds.

And then something brushed my shoulder.

I ran.

I did not think or consider what I was doing. I just ran. The corn stalks slapped my cheeks as I sped forward, unintentionally running further into the field as I tried to escape. There was something moving behind me but I didn't stop to see what. All I did was run straight ahead, gasping for breath, hearing the birds caw wildly as though they sensed my distress.

All that came to an abrupt halt when my foot caught in a stalk, my leg twisted and my body slammed into the ground with the force of what felt like a ten-tonne truck but was presumably much less.

I lay still for a moment, stunned and winded. Then I tried to pull myself to my feet as quickly as possible. But my ankle gave a sharp stab of pain, making me wince and hiss under my breath. I attempted to scramble upright anyway, but fell to my knees again immediately. It was no use. My left ankle had always been slightly weak-now it felt like it was sprained at least. And of course this injury had occurred at the least convenient time.

Which was when I remembered I was being chased.

I pulled myself around where I lay, ignoring the shooting pain in my foot. But there was nothing there. Whatever had been behind me or chasing me or_ whatever_ it had been doing, it was gone now. If it had ever existed in the first place.

Well, with that problem resolved, all I had to do now was get out of here.

If I had any idea where here was.

Looking up, I was given the most unpleasant clue possible.

When I'd tripped, I'd been aware that there were no corn crops in front of me. And now I saw why that was.

I was lying right on the edge of one of the huge crop circles Merrill and the kids had shown me earlier.

Brilliant.

That was my first thought. The next was sheer panic.

I yanked myself back across the corn, forcing myself into a half-standing position this time, because, no matter what pain I was in, there was _no way_ I was lying around here in a huge crop circle to be found by extraterrestrials or pranksters or whoever the hell was responsible for the damage. No way.

Half-upright and bent over, I peered in front of me. The crop circle was huge and seemed to cover miles, which meant you got a good view across to the next area of corn left untouched. If I squinted, it seemed like the crops over there were moving slightly-

Something turned and disappeared into the plants.

I shot upright, staggering slightly on my feet. They moved of their own accord, carrying me a few steps backwards into the relative safety of the crops behind. That way, it was better-I was out of sight, the figure couldn't-

"Isabelle?"

My heart just about stopped.

"Isabelle? Where are you?"

My heart re-started. It was Merrill.

"I'm over here!" I called. "I'm by one of the crop circles!" I only hoped whatever was on the other side of that circle didn't hear me, because, truth was, I was still finding it hard to breathe from the last chase, and I didn't fancy another one.

"OK" I heard Merrill shout. "Could you yell again 'cos I have no idea where you are-the corn crops all look the same." I rolled my eyes. Very funny.

"I'm over _here_!" I yelled, even louder. "Over here!" If he didn't hear that, he needed his ears syringed.

"OK" Merrill yelled. "I think I can see you."

Thank God. I stood still, staring straight across the crop circle. It had been comforting to hear Merrill's voice. It had been comforting to hear the voice of _anyone_ that I knew!

But I liked that it had been Merrill. I mean, I didn't like the whole Disney Princess thing about getting rescued in the woods by the shining knight or whatever but it still felt good. I liked knowing that he'd bothered to come in and find me-though I guessed that was the polite thing for him to do anyway. Still, he'd-

"Boo!"

"Aaargh!"

I spun round for about the third time that night, my heart practically exploding out of my chest, wrenching my ankle painfully, to see Merrill helpless with laughter behind me.

Hilarious.

Perhaps it was the fact that I'd almost jumped out of my skin one too many times tonight. Perhaps it was the fact that I was still half-scared to death from whatever I'd seen in the corn. Or perhaps it was the fact that I'd just injured myself running away from something which had now mysteriously vanished. Perhaps it was all of those things that pretty much ticked me off. Or perhaps it was the simple fact that Merrill had made me jump with his little joke and thereby had made my ankle hurt more.

Whatever. Understandably, I didn't laugh along. In fact, I turned and stood with my back to him, arms folded, waiting for him to stop killing himself with humour and actually help me.

"S-sorry" Merrill gasped, still giggling over something that hadn't actually been that funny. " It just looked hilarious-I came up behind you and you were-" He dissolved into laughter again and I looked over my shoulder to see him actually crying with mirth.

That did it.

"There's someone in your cornfields" I announced without preamble. "Something was standing right over there-" I pointed across the crop circle. "And then it turned and went into the corn. It was probably the same thing that chased me, now I think of it. And yeah, that was what caused me to fall down and get_ this_." I pointed to my ankle, which was now slightly swollen.

Merrill's laughing stopped pretty darn quick. He stared at me, his brow furrowed.

Then he started laughing again.

"Aww, come on, Isabelle. You can't seriously expect me to-"

I'd had it. I grabbed his arm. "Does _that_-" I pointed down to my ankle. "Look fake to you?"

My ankle was now swelling up nicely.

Merrill's face was a picture. He raised his eyes to mine somewhat uncertainly.

It was then I realised I still had hold of his arm.

Quickly, I pulled my hand away. "I just-I just hurt my ankle, okay?" I told him, all bravado fading. Suddenly, I felt sick and painful and tired and I just wanted to go to bed and put the whole stupid day-which I'd anticipated being fun-behind me. This might have had something to do with the fact that this was the second time I'd made an idiot of myself in front of Merrill today, only now I had an injury to show for it. And I was completely freaked out to boot.

I turned away so Merrill couldn't see my expression while I tried to calm myself down, because if there was one thing I did not need right now it was to burst into tears and cry on his shoulder like the biggest wimp on the planet, humiliating myself even further. That would kind of finish the day on a low.

But Merrill's voice, when he spoke, was softer.

"Look, I didn't mean-"Then he trailed off and when he spoke again, he was quiet. "Hey, Isabelle, are you okay?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My ankle was really starting to hurt.

"What happened?" His voice was gentle now, soft.

I took a deep breath and began to explain. "Something chased me, OK? Back there. You can laugh, but it did. And I tripped up here and did something to my ankle and then I look up and see someone standing on the other side of this circle thing and then you come up behind me and freak me out and-" I trailed off. Fantastic. Just fantastic. How in the name of God had I nearly ended up blubbing my entire little adventure to Merrill? How?

But Merrill didn't seem to mind. "You're sure you saw someone?" he asked. He had a different expression on his face now, his lips set and his eyes forceful, kind of like a hunter's before he hits his prey. I stared at him, my eyes focusing on the pale shade of his skin, and the lights in his eyes and the small scar on his lip, which, instead of detracting from his appearance, made me want to stare at him even more.

I nodded. "Pretty much. Well, I saw the back of him, kind of-he turned and disappeared into the crops. But-"

"He chased you?" Merrill's voice was harder now, rougher, the voice of someone who could hurt.

I nodded again. "But I got away," I added, before he could-could what? "My ankle just got twisted." I gestured downwards again. "No big deal."

I raised my eyes to Merrill's again. I felt a jolt at the sight of his expression-furious, determined, even-protective?

But looking at me, he blinked. "If you put some ice on it, it will probably improve" he said suddenly. "This sort of stuff happened all the time when I used to play baseball."

Used to play?

Still, I concentrated on the rest of his words. "Thanks" I told him, though I'd known that first aid tip information since I was six. I turned, to head back into the corn. "I'd better get back to the house and put some on then." I was going to get back to the house without holding onto his arm. I was absolutely determined-

Of course, this was exactly the right moment for me to trip and stumble, only just stopping myself from falling. Though that might have something to do with the arm Merrill slid around my shoulders to catch me.

I froze slightly, even as he helped me upright, unable to think straight and furious at myself for it. But all I could think of was Merrill and how close he was to me and how he had just stopped me from falling and possibly injuring my ankle again and how blue his eyes looked in the dying sunlight and-

"You OK?"

This had to be the third time today Merrill had asked me that question.

"I'm fine" I told him quickly. I could walk on my own. I would walk on my own. I would.

I took another step forward and stumbled again. "Ouch!" The cry was wrenched from my lips, much to my annoyance as I gritted my teeth and tried to take another step.

Merrill sighed. "OK, come here." Before I could protest, he leaned over, slid one of his arms around my waist and pulled one of mine around his shoulders, until he was basically half-carrying me.

I let out a squawk of protest, which understandably, didn't have much of an effect and sounded pretty stupid. Merrill didn't comment, except for a brief smirk. I tried to pull away.

"You don't have to-"

"Yes, I do." His voice was unexpectedly firm. And for some reason, I complied with it. I let myself lean against him reluctantly, glaring at the ground with each step.

Wonderful. I was being helped back out of the field like Snow Stupid White by some minor-league baseball player who'd apparently retired. Perfect.

"How old are you, anyway?" I blurted the question out without realising. Then I closed my eyes, wishing I hadn't said it.

If Merrill was offended, he didn't show it. "Twenty-six" he told me. "You?"

"Twenty-one" I told him, wondering why he'd stopped playing baseball. Twenty-six wasn't _that_ old for sport. Unless he still did play and "used to" had merely been a slip of the tongue.

"Look" Merrill suddenly said brusquely, as we moved along. "Sorry if I scared you earlier, OK?"

I nodded, slightly taken aback. "OK" I told him. "That's-OK." My vocabulary was really cracking the dictionaries today.

Merrill nodded. "Good." He fixed his gaze on the ground. "I didn't mean to."

Not knowing what to say, I just nodded again-a movement I was getting a lot of mileage out of recently-and we walked the rest of the way back to the house in silence.

"Isabelle!"

I looked up at Bo's voice. She was running slightly, an anxious look in her big blue eyes. I gave a brief smile, to reassure her.

"What happened to _you?"_ Morgan asked, running up beside his sister. Chivalrously, he walked round my other side and took my arm, which was sweet, if a bit ineffective. "Did you fall?"

"Yeah" I told him. "I fell and-"I looked at Merrill, unsure whether to tell Morgan and Bo what had happened. I didn't want to scare them.

"Don't go in the cornfields." Merrill told them both abruptly. "Don't even go near them. Just make sure the two of you stay away from the crops, OK?"

"Merrill?"

Graham was walking towards us from the porch, his eyes widening at the sight of me. "What happened?" he asked, pretty much straight away.

"I fell and twisted my ankle." I told him. "Something-" I lowered my voice, so the kids couldn't hear. "Something _chased_ me, Graham."

Graham's face whitened. However, for the sake of the children, his voice did not change its' calm, level tone. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. "Yeah. That's how I tripped. And-I saw someone. In the circle-"I gestured with my hand towards the cornfields. "There was someone there. They were heading back into the corn."

Graham sucked in his breath. "Okay" he said. He shook his head, as though trying to clear it. "Okay." He repeated the word as though the second uttering would give it more truth.

"Graham" said Merrill, who, I noticed, had still not let go of me. "We've got to get out there, we've got to get whoever it is away.."

Graham shook his head. "Merrill." His voice held a steely warning. "We are not going out there. Not-"He gestured to Morgan and Bo, who were standing nearby, looking worried.

"What's going on?" Morgan asked, silencing all of us temporarily.

Nobody answered him. Graham lowered his voice. "Merrill, we can not get Caroline out here again today."

"Who said anything about Caroline? I say we just-"

"Merrill." Graham's tone was even firmer this time, the tone of the older brother. Merrill rolled his eyes, suddenly looking almost like a defiant teenager, prevented from doing something they long more than ever to do. I suppressed a slight snigger.

Graham turned to me. "Isabelle, are you sure you didn't imagine it?"

The question took me by surprise. "Graham, I know what I saw-" I saw something, I knew that.

"I know" Graham said gently. "But it's twilight, you were on your own in the cornfield, you heard something; isn't it possible your imagination just took over? I mean, God knows, it's happened to me a few times." He chuckled and I joined in. I wondered if he realised the strangeness of what he'd just said. I didn't think I'd ever heard Graham use the word God in any way other than prayer before.

Strange to use the name of something you claim not to believe in at all.

I looked at him and saw the slight plea in his eyes. The plea for me to have imagined the whole thing. For there to be no more trouble. For there to be nothing that might scare the children.

I sighed.

"I guess" I told him uncomfortably. "But I did hear- and something brushed-"

"It might have been me." Merrill broke in. "I went into the fields after her-she might have just heard me. It can be creepy out there in the crops-they, you know, brush against your shoulders, your neck. It feels like someone's behind you. It can be creepy." He shrugged, as though that explained the whole thing.

I was sure I hadn't been in the corn that long when I'd heard the noise; surely Merrill wouldn't have followed me in right away? But I could see Morgan's watchful expression and Bo's puzzled one, and I thought of how scared they could get, how freaked out they'd be if they knew what had happened, and I turned back to Graham.

"Yeah, that could be it."

He smiled and I saw the relief in his eyes. Now we could all go inside and pretend I hadn't seen anything in the fields. But I had. I knew I had.

Perhaps Merrill sensed my thoughts, because he said "I'll stay up tonight, see if anything happens." He gestured to the field. "If I see anyone, I'll wake you up, Graham."

He looked directly at his brother and I got the feeling he was enjoying this a little, this excitement, the idea of giving chase to a stranger messing around on their property.

Graham looked at him long and hard before saying "OK." Then he turned to me. "Now let's get you inside and sort your ankle out."

Bo came up beside me as we began to navigate the steps. She stared up into my face. "You look sad" she told me quietly, sucking on the ear of the toy rabbit she carried.

I smiled quickly. "Do I? I'm not, baby. My foot just hurts, that's all."

She stared up at me, unconvinced, and then slid her hand into mine. It was actually a little awkward, going up the steps, but sweet too. "You can hold my Pegasus Stuffed Unicorn toy if you like."

"Really? Thanks, Bo, that would be-" I hesitated. "Helpful." She smiled, her eyes crinkling up the way Colleen's used to do. I smiled back, a real smile, mixed with sadness, looking at her, and thought _Your mom would be so proud of you.._

Together, we walked into the house.

Lying in bed, thinking over everything, I sighed. I'd been awake for hours now, jumping at every sound. The experience in the fields had shaken me up. I rolled my eyes and turned over. I wouldn't get to sleep at all, at this rate.

My eyes flew open and I shot upright in bed. What was that sound? It had sounded like a bump, a thud. And it had come from my door.

Sitting as still as possible, I heard voices outside on the landing. There was a quiet, childish whisper that sounded like Bo and a lower sound-probably Graham, taking her back to bed after a nightmare.

I lay back against my pillows. God knows when I'd fallen asleep, but my eyes were already closing again. I lay still, letting my head nod..

A small scraping sound forced my eyes open again.

I sat up in bed, listening hard this time. Next door, I could still hear the faint mumble of Bo and Graham's voices as the little girl settled back to sleep. It was probably one of them..

A shadow moved across the window.

I was out of the bed in a second. Almost tripping over the sheets, I raced to the door. Fumbling at the doorknob, I cast a quick glance back over my shoulder.

There was nothing there-at first. But, standing still for a second, I noticed something-a shadow, at the corner of the window, slowly moving..

I threw the door open and bolted out of the bedroom without looking back.

Outside my room, I wondered, for a split second, what to do. What option did I have? Was I honestly going to go and wake Graham and Merrill up to tell them that I thought there was_ a shadow outside my window?_ Even in my head, that sounded stupid.

Then I remembered that Graham was already awake. I relaxed slightly. Morgan and Bo's bedroom window faced the same way as mine. If there was anything outside, Graham would have seen..

Morgan and Bo's door slammed open and Graham appeared, walking so fast he was halfway down the landing before I could blink. His face was determined, definite, his eyes wide. They widened even more when they saw me.

"Isabelle!" He skidded to a halt. "God, you scared the hell out of me!"

I stared at him, wondering what to say. Did I tell him what I'd seen or had he-

He spoke before I could. "Listen, you've got to stay up here. And we've got to get outside. There's something-" He swallowed.

"What?" I said, though I knew the answer already, knew exactly what he was going to tell me had happened.

Graham swallowed nervously. "Someone's outside the house."

**Well, what did you think? Please read and review!**

**Just want to add I do not own Signs and the only real character of mine is Isabelle. None of the characters are based on any real person, by the way.**

**Just thought I'd add that in :)**

**Please review!**


	3. Nighttime

**Hiyaa! Thanks for the reviews! OK, here's Part 3-sorry if it's not as long as the other two but Chapter 4 will be up soon! Please read and review!**

**Oh, by the way, just thought I'd add here-I do not own Signs!**

"What are we going to do?" I asked Graham, while tying my dressing gown tighter, because, trust me, there was no way I wanted to go through the humiliation of him and his little brother seeing me in my pyjamas any further right then.

"_We're_ not doing anything. _You're_ staying here." Graham told me.

I just about went through the roof.

"WHAT?"

Graham winced at the sound of my voice, which wasn't that loud- really just a raised whisper. But still, I shut up straight away.

It was no use. Less than five seconds later, Bo's voice, thin and clear, came from her and Morgan's room. "What's wrong, Dad?"

Graham has never really glared at me, but trust me, right then he came pretty close. I kept my gaze steady, the two of us stock-still, staring each other out, until he narrowed his eyes and turned back to his daughter's door. "Nothing, honey. Go back to sleep."

I couldn't see Bo's expression from my vantage point on the landing, but I could imagine it and I had to stifle a snigger. I've seen that expression before and it always has the same effect-it's kind of cute when quiet four-year-old Bo tries to raise one of her eyebrows at you. Colleen used to crack up laughing whenever she did that.

Whatever look she actually had on her face, Graham must have read it pretty clearly, because the next thing he said was "Honestly, Bo. It's nothing to worry about. Just go back to sleep, baby."

He turned back to me on the landing. "You are not doing anything. You are not going outside. You are staying here." He tried to look dignified and commanding, but trust me, it's very difficult to look dignified and commanding when you're dressed in an old T-shirt and checked boxers. Not to mention when you're about as intimidating as a kitten and your feet are bare. If you look like that-i.e, like Graham did at that moment-any attempts at dignity are doomed to backfire before they even begin.

Which worked pretty well for me.

"Graham, there is no way I am staying in here meekly hiding while you and Merrill go out and fight off lunatics. I'm twenty-one. Not a child. Twenty-one. There is nothing you can do to stop me going outside."

Graham glared at me. Guess there's a first time for everything. "Isabelle, I promised your mother I'd look after you-"

"My mother worries too much-"

"Understandably."

We both flinched slightly. In my opinion, that reminder that my sister was no longer around for her to worry about was kind of uncalled for.

Graham recovered first. He stared at me, brushed a hand over his face. "OK" he said, so quietly I had to struggle to hear him.

I stood and waited.

"OK" he said again. He stared towards his children's bedroom door, looking lost, as though trying to find an answer engraved within the wood.

"So I can come?" I asked, making sure my tone didn't sound too hopeful.

He looked at me and sighed. "Isabelle, you could-this guy could be dangerous."

"No more dangerous than he would be to you or Merrill."

Graham sighed. "You know what I mean, Isabelle."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "If you're thinking of leaving me out because I'm a girl, then-"

"Leave you out? This isn't a freaking game, Isabelle! Speaking of which, my brother and I have to get out there right now, before this lunatic disappears again!" He half-walked, half-ran past me, heading down the stairs.

I followed him, ignoring his words. "What did you see?" I called. Because, amazingly, I hadn't asked him that.

Graham didn't turn round. He didn't look at me. Which somehow made his words more chilling. "A guy. On the roof of the barn. He was tall and slim. And I couldn't see his face but I got the impression he-" His voice trailed off abruptly.

I reached the bottom of the stairs, sliding off the last step with a soft thump. "He what?"

Graham turned and looked directly at me. "I got the impression he meant us harm. That he was dangerous. And Isabelle, this isn't a game. This is serious. We don't know what-"

I interrupted. "Did he-" I motioned with my hands. "You know. Climb off the roof? Leave?"

Graham slowly shook his head. "No. Not that I saw."

"It's just-" My heart was pounding. "I saw something. From my window. A shadow. It was a few seconds before you came out of the kids' room. That's why I was-"

Graham interrupted me. "You saw something?"

I nodded. "Yeah. This shadow moved across my window. It was-" Graham wasn't listening. He had moved his gaze to the living room, directly accessible from the stairs. He was staring out through the living room windows, looking straight across the backyard onto the cornfields, waving innocuously in the moonlight.

A warning prickled into existence at the back of my brain. I lowered my voice more. "Do you reckon it's-"

A head lifted out of the corn crops.

It took me everything I had not to scream out loud. In fact, I did scream, but only for one very quick, very brief second, before Graham grabbed my arm roughly and shoved a hand over my mouth, forcing me to subside. I did so, immediately, but couldn't restrain my gasp. Graham was stock still next to me, still holding on to my arm, one hand over my mouth, his eyes focused, determined, staring dead ahead out of the window. The-thing-the human, the creature, whatever it was-lowered its head, disappearing once again into the corn crops. Graham and I did not move an inch. We just stood, still motionless, still silent, our eyes staring into the darkness.

Slowly, inch by inch, Graham removed his hand from my mouth. His eyes narrowed in thought. Looking ahead, he spoke one word.

"Right."

He moved so fast, I blinked a couple of times, astonished. Releasing my arm, he spun round, heading for the coat rack behind the door. Grabbing his jacket, he barked out an order without turning to face me.

"Isabelle, check out the window."

You know, usually, I'd have objected to the tone, but funnily enough, I was too worried about the possible life-threatening danger outside to disobey.

I walked slowly to the window. "QUICKLY!" hissed Graham, as loudly as he could without raising his tone to a shout.

I hastened my pace. The very fact I was actually obeying somebody else meant that the situation was serious.

Taking a deep breath, I peered out the window and saw...

Absolutely nothing.

The swings were moving gently back and forth in the night breeze, the corn stalks were as still as I'd ever seen them. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought everything was about as safe and secure as it could be.

"There's nothing there" I told him. "It just looks-" I furrowed my brow. "Normal."

Graham nodded, pulling on boots. "Wake Merrill up" he told me, before turning and heading for the stairs.

I stared after him, puzzled. What the hell did he mean? "I don't know where he sleeps" I hissed after Graham, who was already halfway up the stairs. I folded my arms, trying to ignore the fact I was blushing. No particular reason, just the thought of suddenly bursting into Merrill's room in the middle of the night was kind of awkward as hell.

Graham turned back and stared at me from the top of the stairs, seemingly not noticing my blush. "What do you mean? He's right there." he told me, pointing just past me, over my shoulder.

I frowned. Where? What did he-

I glanced back. Merrill was asleep in the chair behind me.

For the third time that night, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I mean, I'd already had something crawling across my window, Graham shoving his hand over my mouth, something_ sticking its' head out the corn_ and now I'd found out a guy I might kind of like had been sitting in a chair behind me the entire time, without me even knowing. Granted, he was asleep, but still..

When I could breathe again, I approached the chair cautiously. OK, this was a minor emergency, but I still felt kind of awkward about just waking him up. Still, it wasn't as though I had an alternative.

I cleared my throat. No response. Damn it.

"Merrill" I whispered. "Merrill!"

Still no response.

I rolled my eyes. "Merrill!" I changed my whisper to a hiss. "Merrill!"

_Still_ no response.

I sighed, and bent down beside him. I'd tried to wake him up nicely. Now he was just going to have to deal with-

"Is he awake yet?" hissed Graham from behind me, already halfway down the stairs. Briefly, I noticed he was now wearing trousers-I guessed if he was going to fight off life-threatening lunatics with his younger brother, he didn't want to look stupid at the same time.

I turned back to the armchair. "Merrill!" This time, I shook his shoulder hard-ignoring the strange spark of electricity that seemed to shoot up my arm just from touching him.

I rolled my eyes again. Good grief, the way I was going, I was in danger of turning into one of those soppy Mills and Boon types.

Merrill shifted slightly in his chair, only to open his eyes at Graham's quick tap on his arm. He turned to look at us sleepily, as though he wasn't quite sure where he was. "What?"

Graham spoke before I could-apparently having already made up his mind as to the source of the stranger on the grounds. "Lionel Pritchard and the Wolfington brothers are back."

I stared at him. I'd known he suspected pranksters, but this-it didn't seem like Lionel Pritchard's type of work. I'd gone through school with that guy a grade ahead of me, and trust me, he could barely walk and chew simultaneously.

Merrill practically leapt up from the chair. "Tell me more."

Standing at the front door less than five minutes later, I had to admit I had no idea how any of us were going to get through this without looking like complete idiots.

Merrill was pulling on his boots, all signs of sleepiness gone. Instead, there was a mischievous excitement in his eyes that kind of undermined the seriousness of the situation.

"It's time for an ass-whupping!"

I liked Merrill a lot, but looking at him right at that moment, I had to say he kind of reminded me of an overexcited puppy crossed with a slightly insane thrill-seeker. Not one of the better comparisons I had ever come up with.

For the third time that night, I rolled my eyes-a gesture vastly becoming a regular habit. But seriously, there was no other real response possible to the stupidity of that comment.

Graham appeared to agree.

"This is not an intelligent way to approach this" he warned his brother. Merrill yanked open the front door and peered out. Curious, so did I.

Graham continued his speech behind us. "Lee is a friend of mine-this is his son!"  
>I grimaced, distracted by the-perfectly peaceful- scene outside with feeling sorry for Lee-it wasn't his fault he had Satan's spawn gifted with the table manners of a bear for a child. Trust me, I did not need another reason to dislike Lionel Pritchard. The first time we'd met, he'd told me I looked like a chipmunk crossed with a boy (mainly because, due to an accident with a curious mixture of hair gel and syrup, for one year as a child, I had to wear my hair cut close-cropped. Like, <em>really<em> close-cropped. Like, army-style close-cropped. Feast your mind on that image.) Things between him and I had pretty much gone downhill from there. Still, thank God for small mercies-Lionel dropped out of high school early and since then I had come across him precious few times.

Until now.

Merrill did not seem particularly troubled by Graham's comment. "Yeah, well, we'll be doing Lee a favour" he informed his brother-which, when you think about it, wasn't really very reassuring.

Still, I wasn't about to contradict him. I was waiting to see what plan Merrill had come up with. Unfortunately, I would also bet my life at that point that his idea might be something that could be considered-unwise.

I was right.

"All right, listen" Merrill whispered as loudly as possible. "We both go outside, move around the house in opposite directions-we act crazy, insane with anger, make them crap in their pants, then force them around so we meet up on the other side." He nodded, clearly pleased with his plan.

Unfortunately, I could think of at least ten things that were wrong with it.

"Er, Merrill?" I asked him. "You said 'both'. There's _three_ of us." I pointed out, gesturing to him, Graham and I separately for emphasis.

Merrill stared at me for a moment. He blinked.

Then he understood.

"Oh no. No, no, no. You are not coming." he told me. He folded his arms across his chest as if it had already been decided.

That did it.

"Who the hell said I wasn't coming? I'm not a kid! I can just as easily-"

"Oh, for God's sake, Isabelle!" Graham hissed. "I promised your mother I'd look after you! Not let you go chasing after dangerous madmen round our farm!"  
>"It's not <em>dangerous madmen<em>, it's Lionel Pritchard, for God's sake-"  
>"Could the two of you <em>please keep it down<em>?"

We both turned to look at Merrill. He was glaring at us, his eyes darting to the door every few seconds. "You want whoever's out there to hear everything you're saying?"

I glared back. "I am not being the only one who stays inside, for-"

"Fine" Merrill interrupted, to my surprise. "You can stand on the porch. But you are not chasing-"

"What gives you the right to tell me what-"I knew I was being childish, that they were both just trying to protect me, but-I don't know. There was something in me that didn't want to obey. I didn't want to be the kid who stayed behind on the porch, not trusted or allowed to participate in the fun. Though I guessed fun wasn't really an accurate word for this.

Graham spoke over both of us. "Isabelle, your mother told me to keep an eye on you. This is me doing that." He fixed me with a firm stare. There were times when Graham felt a lot more like an uncle than a brother-in-law to me. This was one of those times.

"You can stand on the porch." Graham continued. "But if there is the slightest sign of trouble, if there is any indication there might be danger, I don't care if we're still outside, you go back in and ring the police. OK?"

I glared back at him. But I could tell I didn't have much choice-it was either agree to the conditions or be ordered back to my room like a child.

"OK" I muttered, glaring at the floor as though it was the sole root of all of my problems.

"Good" Graham said. Then he turned back to his brother. "Now. Explain 'act crazy.'"

Merrill stared at him as though Graham had been the one to say something stupid. "You know, curse and stuff." He rolled his eyes, as though he couldn't believe anybody could be so dense.

I rolled mine too, but put it this way; I wasn't rolling them at Graham.

Graham appeared to have more self-control than me. Also more tact. "You want me to curse?" he asked his brother.

Merrill blinked. "You don't mean it-it's just for show!" he explained. My eyes returned to their now familiar rolling position. Merrill stared at both of us. "What?"

"Nothing" I muttered, exercising slightly more tact than eye-rolling. Still, someone had to point out the-to put it kindly-overall stupidity of this plan. Even if it was Merrill who'd come up with it. Even if it was Merrill, who was kind to Morgan and Bo, and had been nice enough to come into the corn after me when I got lost, and who was now raring to run outside and protect his family, no matter what the consequences, and who was now looking at me in such a strange, confused, sweet kind of way, with the moonlight glinting off his dark green-blue eyes..

_Get a grip, Isabelle._

I shook myself mentally._ He might be kind and sweet and, OK, cute, and all the rest of it_ I argued with myself. _But just tell him his plan's crap. In a nice way, of course._

"It's kind of-" I began, not knowing quite how to put it. Merrill still stared at me, waiting.

Graham stepped in, helping me out. "It won't be convincing" he told Merrill. I nodded, waiting. Graham would tell Merrill-politely-that the whole plan was so stupid, a mildly intelligent racoon could have concocted a better one, and we'd shut the door and ring the police or something else saner and less dangerous. And that didn't leave me out.

Graham continued. "It doesn't sound natural when I curse!"

At this, I merely sank my head into my hands. So Graham wasn't worried about the overall uselessness of the plan-he was just worried he wouldn't be able to curse convincingly enough to carry off the uselessness.

If you see what I mean...

Merrill turned to me, rolling his own eyes now. "What's your problem with it?" he hissed. I looked up at him, and got slightly distracted-_again_, this was getting annoying- by the way his eyes glinted, by the weird, strangely captivating look of fierce excitement on his face.

I blinked, getting my bearings. "Well-it's just-what if this guy's-you know-dangerous-armed? What if Graham's right and-"

"He's not dangerous or armed!" Merrill hissed. "It's Lionel Pritchard, for God's sake! He can barely walk in a straight line!"

I was surprised-that had been more or less what I'd thought on the matter. "Look" I said. "It might not be him. What if you get-"

"Merrill, it doesn't make sense" Graham told him. "I cannot curse. It will sound berserk. The guy will work out-"

Merrill rolled his eyes again. "Oh, just make _noises_ then!"

At this point, I actually started laughing. I couldn't help it. The whole situation was just too surreal. I was standing in the hallway in my nightclothes with Graham Hess and his cute younger brother, with a possibly dangerous intruder outside, arguing about whether to curse or just make noises. The weirdness of it all could not be explained.

"Oh, what the_ heck's_ so funny?" Merrill asked, staring at me. I shook my head at him, still giggling. If he didn't think I was crazy before, I was pretty certain he did now.

Graham was far more used to me. He turned back to his brother. He sighed. "Explain noises."

The look on Merrill's face was so exasperated I couldn't help but burst out laughing again. He pushed his hands through his hair, apparently deciding just to ignore my sense of humour. "Look, are you going to do this or what?" he asked Graham, casting a sharp glance outside the door.

Graham stared at him. "No, I'm not!"

My giggles had subsided by this time; I was still smirking though, half-weak with laughter as I got to my feet, just in time to catch Merrill's rebuttal: "OK, you want them to be stealing something in the house next time?"

I straightened up. "They're probably gone" I told Merrill. "They probably took off ages ago."

The security light flooded the area outside, effortlessly proving me wrong.

Merrill raised an eyebrow at me. I glowered back. However, the look on his face-a mixture of humour and at the same time, almost childish smugness-was so cheeky and daring and hopelessly endearing that I couldn't keep up the glowering for long. Plus there was a potential axe-murderer outside which dampened the atmosphere fairly quickly.

Merrill turned to Graham. "On the count of three" he said, apparently ignoring Graham's declination of participation in the plan. Graham drew in a breath, as though to speak-then looking at his younger brother's face, seemed to give in. I kept my eyes on him, curious as to how this was going to turn out. For some reason, Merrill had almost made this-kind of exciting. I could almost forget that there might be a crazed madman out there, hunting us down and waiting for us to come outside, so he could pick us off like rabbits.

Merrill inhaled sharply. "One-two-three!"

Both men burst out the door. Merrill dived in the left direction-and so did Graham, before turning the other way. I sniggered slightly.

I walked out onto the porch, stood still and listened. Despite myself, I was actually-though I'd die before I let either one of them know-kind of interested to see what would happen.

It was seconds before I heard Graham's voice. It was loud-the intruder would hear it all right. If only he'd said something less stupid.

"Aaargh! I'm insane with anger!"

I doubled up, laughing. I could picture Graham's face as he screamed this absolutely ridiculous phrase and that made me laugh even more.

Merrill's was better. "We're going to beat your ass, bitch!"

I rolled my eyes-I was going to have to start keeping a tally of how many times I did that-and snorted. Trust Merrill-from what I knew of him, at least.

There was a loud clatter from the side of the house. I jumped. Had Merrill or Graham fallen over? Had they knocked into something?

Merrill's voice ripped through the air. "We're gonna tear your head off!"

I stifled another snigger. My emotions seemed to be going from one extreme to the other.

Graham's voice echoed after his younger brother's. "I'm losing my mind!"

This time, I was actually bent over, almost weeping with silent laughter. Graham shouted again. "It's time for an ass-whupping!"

That pretty much killed any chance I had of remaining quiet. I could hardly breathe laughing and stumbled off the porch, heading to the right of the house. If the guy was still there, they'd have caught him round the other side, so I figured I was safe. I started to make my way round, still laughing.

There was a thump on the roof.

I skidded to a halt and stood still, looking up.

Another thump, followed by the sound of something sliding, skidding...like something was crawling up there..

I held my breath. I kept watching.

A shadow moved suddenly across the edge of the roof.

For the second time that evening, I ran. I pelted round the side of the house, my breath tearing in my chest, all laughter gone from my throat.

As I rounded the corner, another thought flashed through my mind. Morgan and Bo! They were up there on their own! What if something-

Merrill and Graham were standing at the back of the house and I raced towards them. Both of them turned around as my footsteps echoed nearer, and I stumbled to a halt.

And neither of them looked too pleased to see me.

"What are you doing? I told you to stay on the porch!" hissed Merrill. His eyes were wide with alarm.

I straightened up, intending to argue that I was _not a child_, but another thudding sound from the roof silenced my words before I spoke them. I glanced up, holding my breath, as did Graham and Merrill.

Nothing happened.

Merrill stared up into the air, puzzled. "How did he get up-"

"I heard something" I blurted out hurriedly, before either one of them could start yelling at me again. "Something on the roof-it thudded, I-"

Merrill wasn't listening; instead, he was walking away, still looking at the roof, his eyes darting this way and that. Initially, I thought he was being just plain rude, but then I realised he was watching the roof of the house, listening, on the alert for any signs of danger.

There was another sound; a scurrying, a rushing-almost as though something was running, climbing on the roof..

Merrill slowly walked back towards us. He stood beside me and looked up at the roof, and when he spoke, his voice was very calm. "Are you sure this is Lionel Pritchard?"

Something fell behind us. There was no other way to describe the sound-it was like something knocking against a wall, something...

We all whirled round simultaneously. My eyes searched the darkness and almost immediately latched onto something in the corn-something moving, something walking..

Merrill cleared his throat. I was still staring into the corn when I realised the sound was aimed at me. A sharp nudge from his elbow helped.

"Ow!" I turned to glare at him. "What?"

He raised his eyebrows and gestured downwards. I slowly lowered my eyes to realise I had grabbed hold of his arm so hard that you could count my white fingermarks pressed into the skin. And I hadn't let go.

He cleared his throat melodramatically. "Nothing" he said, in answer to my one-word question "What?" "Just thought you might like to stop cutting off the circulation in my arm."

I flushed and lowered my eyes again. "Sorry" I muttered, before letting go of him and turning back to the crops.

Merrill's voice came again, softer. "It's OK."

I didn't look but felt him step over to me. Then slowly, almost uncertainly, he put his arm around my shoulders. I felt the same jolt of electricity I'd felt earlier when I'd tried to shake him awake.

Standing there, very still, I had to admit this could be competing for the most surreal moment of my life so far. I was standing in the backyard possibly unaware of a dangerous intruder who just might be someone I knew, and Merrill Hess had, for some crazy, insane, stupidly brilliant reason, put his arm around my shoulders and Graham was just standing there staring at the swing set-

The swing set?

I moved slightly, but not enough to shake off Merrill's arm. From where I stood, near the house, I could make out the childrens' swing set in the moonlight. And, very, very slowly, very deliberately, one swing was moving back and forth.

I shivered. "What the hell is that?" I winced to myself._ God, Isabelle. What the hell is that? It's a swing. Duh._

But Merrill shook his head. His arm was warm around my shoulders and, unable to stop myself, I leant further into him-the night was cold for summer and I was scared. Well, that's what I told myself.

Graham stayed still. He stood slightly ahead of us, further away from the house, nearer the corn crops. "Who's there?" he called. I waited, shivering despite Merrill's warmth, knowing that that question "Who's there?" wouldn't be answered. It almost never is.

Graham stepped back. "Who's there?" he called again, but his voice was quieter now and it seemed to crack slightly as he spoke.

We waited. Nothing happened.

Graham shook his head. He moved back towards the house.

A voice spoke. "Dad?"

We all turned as one.

It was Bo. She was standing on the lawn in her thin nightdress, shivering. She looked small and pale and very, very vulnerable.

Morgan appeared behind her. "What's going on?" he called. "We heard shouting and-"He trailed off as his father walked towards him.

"It's OK, Morgan." Graham kept walking. "Nothing's wrong."

Merrill and I moved back towards the house, too. Graham, reaching the children, put his arm around his son and lifted Bo up into the air, where her little face nestled into his shoulder. Her dark blue eyes remained fastened on Merrill and I.

"It's all right" Merrill called out, perhaps sensing the little girl's anxiety. "There's nothing to worry about. We were just outside because-"He stopped, his imagination clearly momentarily failing him.

"We were-"I paused. "Playing a game" I told her with a smile that was as fake as plastic. "We were just playing.."

I trailed off as Bo's eyes found my face, and she gave me the nearest thing to a raised eyebrow any four-year-old can give.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"They're fine, Bo" Graham assured her, quickening his pace slightly. He curled his arm tighter around Morgan, who leaned into his side.

"Then why's Uncle Merrill hugging Isabelle?"

Graham stopped dead, as did Morgan. So did Merrill and I.

I dropped my eyes quickly, thinking fast. "I slipped. " I announced. "I slipped and my ankle hurt-you know, from before. Merrill was just helping me.."

This lie was even less convincing than the last one. I didn't look at Merrill but I could almost feel the heat of his blush, as he dropped his arm from where it still lay around my shoulders.

Bo nodded once. "Okay." But her tone was laced with uncertainty and from my vantage point three feet away, I could see Morgan grinning.

Graham raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything. He just turned back around and continued walking towards the house.

I avoided Merrill's eyes and quickened my pace, hurrying after the others. For one of the first times in my life, I had no idea what to say.

At the back door, Graham stopped, sliding Bo gently to the ground. She and Morgan walked into the house quietly, fatigue overtaking them now that the excitement was over, and their beds were nearby. Graham stood back to let Merrill and I pass, so only we caught his whispered comment. "Tomorrow, we're calling Caroline.."

Nodding, Merrill walked inside. He didn't look at me. Instead, he went straight to the children. "Let's get you back to bed."

He lifted Bo into his arms as Graham had done, and let Morgan lead the way as he carried her up the stairs.

I stood still, watching him go. Then I turned back, leaning forward for one more look outside, as Graham swung the door softly closed.

The corn crops stood silently in the moonlight. The swing had long since stopped moving and now hung, motionless in the dark. Nothing moved. If you didn't know better, you might think nothing had happened at all.

**Hope you enjoyed it! Part 4 will be up soon-please read and review!**


	4. Questions, Questions and More Questions

**Hiya! Sorry for the long wait-been REALLY busy with revision! Here's Chapter 4-and it's slightly longer! Enjoy!**

**I do not own Signs (once again) *cries***

When you call the police out for a suspected burglary/stalking incident/lurker, etc. , they're not always too happy. Well, think about it-it means more work for them, a possible criminal on the loose, hours of investigation-and then, after all that, it might turn out to be nothing, nothing meriting police work at all. And to be honest, unless you really love the job, then to do a load of investigating and analysing and tailing and whatever, and then find out it was a bit of a waste of time-well, that must pretty much tick you off.

No, I imagine life must be pretty annoying for the police sometimes. And I imagine it must be even more annoying when they're called out by the same people two days in a row, for the same crime in the same place-and the same absolute lack of evidence.

So when I answered Graham's door the next morning to see Caroline Paski standing outside, leaning against the doorframe, looking a tad exasperated, I didn't blame her._ I_ was exasperated with the situation and I wasn't the one having to do a load of work to solve it.

"Hey, Isabelle" she sighed, walking straight through the door, without even waiting for a greeting. "Graham told you I was-"

"Yep" I nodded, not waiting for her to finish the sentence. "I heard him on the phone to you."

Graham had barely waited until dawn before calling. I don't think he'd slept the previous night since the barn roof incident-I knew I hadn't, and judging by the way Merrill was yawning and rubbing his eyes this morning, he hadn't been lost in sweet dreams for some hours either. Only Morgan and Bo seemed undisturbed-interested rather than shaken or frightened.

Morgan appeared in the hallway now-probably having heard Caroline's arrival.

"Did Dad tell you about what happened last night?" he asked immediately, not wasting any time on greetings.

Caroline nodded, with a smile to Morgan. On second glance, I noticed it was a pretty forced smile; her eyes were searching the area over his head, as if looking for someone and I couldn't help but notice the way she was tapping her foot, as though eager to get on.

Merrill came out of the kitchen, still yawning. "Morning, Caroline."

Caroline looked him up and down, taking in his half-closed eyes, and the way he was running his hands through his hair, which was already sticking up all over the place. "Morning" she replied. "Can I take it the reason you look like you've just been dragged through the corn crops all night, might have something to do with the incident your brother called me out here for?"

Merrill blinked. "Pretty much" he yawned. "Want me to go and get him?" Graham was still upstairs-God knew what he was doing. Without waiting for an answer, Merrill headed towards the steps, calling his brother's name as he went. His arm brushed mine as he passed.

I moved to Morgan, placing a hand on his shoulder as he turned towards the kitchen, and tried not to let my thoughts stray too close to Merrill. We hadn't spoken much since the strange, unexpected, kind of-_great_ moment when he'd ended up with his arm around me last night. Both of us were too tired, for a start, and for another thing, how exactly would I bring_ that_ up in conversation? "Hey, Merrill, nice weather, isn't it..how creepy was it last night..yeah, my favourite part was when there was this weird noise and I grabbed your arm and then, for some reason, you ended up maybe accidentally-on-purpose, kind of hugging me or something? Yeah, that was my favourite part, by the way." Yeah, and maybe I'd just end up permanently unable to talk to him, constantly avoid the house when he was there, and spend the rest of my life hiding round the corner at parties and family functions, terrified of bumping into him, for fear of actually_ drowning _in my own humiliation.

Morgan blinked up at the policewoman. "Would you like a drink of orange juice?" he asked, both politely and unexpectedly.

Caroline glanced down at him, a look of surprise on her face. "That'd be great, Morgan" she replied, raising her eyebrows at me over the little boy's head. "Thanks."

Walking towards the kitchen, I glanced over my shoulder, slowing my steps as I spotted Bo sitting in the living room. She was quiet-as usual-but the chatter and laughter from the television screen more than made up for her silence. She had been sitting in the same spot in the same position for over an hour now and she had not glanced up from her favourite cartoon show once. She was always sitting there on Sunday mornings-this was her favourite programme.

Now I stopped and leaned against the door frame, looking in at her. Her deep blue eyes stared at the screen, with a solemn expression-a stranger might have thought her troubled or unhappy. However, knowing Bo since she was born, being the first adult after her parents to hold her, having looked into her eyes a thousand times and more as she grew, I knew better. If you looked closely, you could see the slight crease at her lips, the quiet spark of light in her eyes, the way she sat entranced. A stranger might have thought her sad, troubled or unhappy-but her family would see her eyes, her lips, her face and know that she was not distressed by what she saw on the TV screen, or by whatever strange events were currently occurring on her family's farm. Not distressed, not terrified-simply, quietly curious and perhaps even fascinated, in her own gently unobtrusive way. I smiled at her, noting her absorption.

But the volume was pretty high.

"Bo" I said, not raising my voice-I knew that she would hear. Even if she didn't respond, she would hear.

She sat, silent.

"Bo, your dad's coming down to talk to Officer Paski. He needs to tell her about what happened last night. He needs the TV to be quiet so she can hear him properly." I waited to see what she would do.

Bo didn't look at me, but she reached forward, purposefully pulled the remote control towards her, and placed her finger firmly on the volume button.

"Thanks" I told her softly. She didn't look up from the TV, but her brown hair fell forward over her face, as she nodded.

Stepping backwards, I let my gaze fall about the room. It looked perfectly ordinary-sunlight flooding in through the windows, cushions strewn about the couch, Bo seated in front of the television-and of course, the customary half-full glasses of water dotted here and there about the furniture, small reminders that, if you didn't know better, you'd almost think were deliberate.

There were a lot more than usual, I noticed, frowning to myself. Less drunk, too-indeed, it looked as if Bo had taken barely more than a sip from each one.

"You didn't like your water, honey?" I asked, unthinkingly, which had to be one of the stupidest things I'd ever come out with. Of _course_ she didn't like it. Why the hell would she be leaving glasses all over the place if she _liked_ the drinks? If that was me, wouldn't I find that question irritating?

I paused as that thought entered my head.

_Didn't_ I find those questions irritating-when it was me?

Again, Bo didn't turn her head away from the TV screen, but she nodded.

I stared at the glasses, wondering whether to bother taking them outside, or just wait until Caroline had left. I decided on the latter-I wanted to get this whole talking-to-the-police thing over with. I hated things like this-I'd done enough talking to people as a child, and it had rarely helped. Most of the time, it had made things worse.

As my eyes examined the glasses Bo had abandoned, a familiar thought crept into my head.

_Put them in the right order._

I shook my head, blinked. I didn't have to listen to it-it was the same thing with my food, when I was little, when I couldn't eat unless food was in the right pattern, the right order. It wasn't real. I didn't have to listen to it.

_Do you want something to happen.._

I shook my head again, as though the thoughts were a voice, something physical, something that could be fought.

_Nothing will happen _I told myself. _It's just your thoughts..just your thoughts, lying to you..the way they always used to.._

_The way they always used to..._

Suddenly, I was back to being a little girl again.

"_Isabelle?"_

_I don't stop._

"_Isabelle, you've cleaned it enough times now."  
>Still, I don't stop.<em>

"_Isabelle!" My mother snatches the plate from my grasp. "You've cleaned it about ten times! For pity's sake!"_

_She gives me a reproving look before placing the plate in the rack. I stare at her, shocked._

"_But I have to finish" I try to explain. It doesn't feel right yet. I have to do it until it feels right. "I have to finish!"_

_My mother glares at me. "You can finish on the other plates! Honestly, Isabelle, you have to stop these silly little habits! You're much too old for this!"_

_I drop my eyes to the sink and bite my lip. Maybe it won't be so bad, I tell myself. Maybe, if I can dry exactly two glasses in three circular motions each, it will be okay. Maybe then things will balance out._

_Until then, I'm terrified. Until then, I'm on edge. Until then, nothing is safe._

_Blinking hard, I pick up the drying towel. I lift a dripping glass and push the cloth into it like a biscuit into a child's mouth. I start to rub the towel round in a slow circle._

_My mother is watching me. "Honestly, I don't know what's got into you, Isabelle."_

_She stares at me, her gaze changing from disapproving to concerned, as I dry the glass in exactly three circular motions and reach for another. Soon things will be all right. Everything will balance. It will all work out fine._

_My mother shakes her head and drops her eyes back to the sink, but she still glances up when she thinks I won't see. She still checks and watches me._

_I finish my glass drying. Things still don't feel right. I push my hands through my hair and groan slightly._

_My mother stares at me. "What's wrong, Isabelle?"_

_I shake my head. I can't tell her. I can't. She won't understand._

_I stare miserably into the murky dishwater, as though I might be able to find some answers therein._

I blinked hard, coming back to the present with a jolt.

_You're not a kid anymore. You know it's not real. Just ignore it._

I took a deep breath.

_What if something bad happens?_

The thought leapt into my mind, before I could stop it.

_Don't be stupid. You know nothing bad's going to happen if you don't arrange things right... logically nothing bad can happen just through you not arranging those glasses right..._

I shook my head hard, turned round and headed for the door. I was _not_ going to be controlled by my thoughts.

I caught a glimpse of Bo out of the corner of my eye as I turned.

_What if something happens to her?_

I shook my head hard, as though that would actually have an effect. _It won't...it won't..._

_If something happens to her, it will be your fault..._

_Arrange the glasses-if they're not arranged right, something bad could happen. Something bad could happen to her.._

My mind filled with images, images which gripped my body tight and made my eyes burn with fear. I couldn't let anything bad happen to her. I couldn't.

_You can help her by sorting out the glasses._

I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand it.

I walked back over to the shelf where the glasses sat.

I looked at them.

_Put them in a neat row._

I moved one back slightly, until they formed a sort of triangle shape.

Suddenly, I was flooded with memories. Me, standing in my bedroom for hours, moving and sorting and rearranging objects-that had no need to be rearranged-just to make myself feel better. To prevent whatever terrible thing would happen if I didn't. Failing a math test. My parents splitting up. Something happening to my sister or I...

_Something happening to my sister..._

A sharp wrench in my chest.

_Maybe if you'd listened more carefully.._

But I remembered Colleen's voice at one of the many waiting rooms we ended up in. Waiting rooms where we sat quietly, being no trouble, until we were called into a room where we would be told what was wrong with me. Why I behaved the way I did. What the thoughts in my head-the thoughts that ruled every inch of my life-were. And how to fight them.

I thought back and I remembered Colleen's words.

"_Isabelle, you have to fight this.." Colleen's voice is as anxious as her tone. I stare up at her, me just eleven years old, and her face almost seems to swim in and out of focus. "You have to fight this, Isabelle-I know it's hard, I can't imagine what this is like, but I know that it's not real. You have to remember that it's not real."_

_I nod, staring up at her._

"_It's just like-" She takes a deep breath. She glances away, her eyes suddenly watery. Her hand rubs over her rounded belly, pregnant with a baby, a baby she will name Morgan. _

_She turns back to me with a small forced smile. "It's just like one of your stories, Isabelle. You know? Just like one of your stories that you make up. That you read in books. Like when the people have to be brave."  
>I don't know what to do. I nod again.<em>

_She nods, too. "You have to be brave." Her hand smoothes the hair off my face. Then she slides her arms around me and pulls me into a hug. I hug her back, my face squashed into her chest, my tummy pressed against her stomach, where I can feel a faint but distinct kicking movement, where Baby-Baby Morgan, as he will later be known-stretches his legs. _

_Colleen pulls back and holds me at arm's length. She looks into my eyes. "You have to try. I know it's hard, but you have to try, Isabelle." She blinks, more tears blurring back. "Please" she whispers. "Please promise me you'll try."_

_I stare back at her, my own eyes filling with frustrated tears. "I promise" I whisper back._

_She nods again. Her cheeks are wet. She takes a deep breath. "Then that's good enough."_

_She pulls me close and rocks me and I squeeze my eyes shut, tears trickling down my cheeks as I try to breathe against the reality of being tied inside a promise I have no idea how to keep._

"Isabelle?"

I turned. Morgan was standing in the doorway, regarding me with a slightly concerned look on his face.

"Are you okay?"  
>I stared at him.<p>

_Colleen would want you to fight this.._

_Promise me.._

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine, Morgan." I walked towards him, away from the shelf, without so much as touching the other two glasses.

No way was I going to be controlled by this.

The thoughts were screaming in my head. _Now something's going to happen. Now someone's going to.._

I forced myself to look at Morgan and smile. He smiled back, but his face was tense, his eyes anxious.

"Are you _sure_ you're okay, Isabelle?" he asked again, as we walked into the kitchen. Pretty considerate for a ten-year-old.

I nodded, grinning manically to compensate for getting him worried. Though, to be honest, the manic grin probably frightened him more.

Still, he didn't seem to mind too much.

"Would you like some orange juice?" he asked, gesturing towards Caroline, seated at the table, with a half-full cup in front of her.

"Um, yeah, thanks." To be honest, I'd never been much of a juice fan, but I figured it couldn't hurt.

The thoughts were still there, but fading slightly. Fading to a dull roar...

Merrill walked into the kitchen as I slumped down in the chair, too exhausted to even muster a greeting. Honestly, I was so tired, I was seriously considering just putting my head down on the table and zoning out for this entire interview. It would distract me from my thoughts, at the very least.

However, my daydreams about going to sleep and not waking up for three days weren't so riveting that I failed to notice Merrill's arm brushing against mine as he sat down. And they definitely weren't so riveting that they stopped me from dropping my gaze to the tabletop and letting my hair fall forward to hide the blush that had risen to my cheeks. God, all this blushing was getting annoying.

"Where's Graham?" I asked. It was kind of difficult to avoid noticing Merrill had walked out of the room alone to get Graham and had walked back into the room- still without Graham.

"He'll be down in a minute." Merrill muttered, dropping into a chair. Morgan placed a glass of juice in front of me with a smile. I managed a slight twitch of my facial expression in response. Boy, was I being friendly today.

And that's basically how things went for the next few minutes, until we heard Graham's footsteps on the stairs. Caroline waited, I stared at the table, Morgan stood still and Merrill did nothing. Fascinating.

Then Graham entered the room.

"Hey, Caroline" he muttered, pushing his hand through his hair-a trait he shared with his younger brother, I noticed.

"Graham." Caroline nodded. Morgan, quietly, almost as though not to be noticed, walked to the head of the table and sat down next to Caroline, as Graham took a seat on Merrill's right. Sensing the interview was about to start, I pushed myself upright, forcing myself into a halfway sitting-rather than slumping-position.

"Now I know the gist of what happened last night" Caroline told us, glancing at a bunch of papers. "You gave me a pretty detailed account over the phone, Graham. But I just need to ask you some questions." She leaned forward, looking each of us in the eye. "Could you tell me what you saw of the intruder?"

I blinked. Merrill, next to me, looked up, confused. "Well-" he glanced at Graham and I. "There wasn't that much to see, really. I mean-"

There was a loud blast of cartoon gunfire from the TV in the family room. Graham winced slightly.

Caroline pressed on. "Did you not see any-I don't know-identifying features on the guy? His hair, his clothes? His build?"

"I-well-" Merrill-seemingly the only person willing to speak-glanced at his brother and I, apparently hoping for inspiration from either one of us.

OK, maybe I was biased, but I didn't really want to see him struggle for words to describe our little adventure last night while Graham and I sat still and did nothing to help him out in any way. And maybe I hadn't seen the guy myself, but I couldn't just sit there and leave Merrill to do the job on his own.

So I chipped in.

"He-well, it was hard to see, wasn't it?" I mused, glancing at Graham for encouragement. He nodded, so I continued with my impromptu little speech. "I mean-it was-dark-and-" _Brilliant, Isabelle. Just brilliant. You're meant to be smart. You're asked to describe an event. And what do you come out with? "It was dark."_

There were absolutely no words for how stupid that comment had been, so I just broke off mid-sentence.

Graham, seeming to sense my embarrassment, took over. "It was hard to see" he told Caroline. He looked at her, thoughtfully, and I knew he was trying to remember something, anything, useful about the guy he and his brother had seen the previous night. He chewed his lip. "It was very dark." An even better response.

Caroline opened her mouth but Morgan's voice cut her off. "Is this a walkie-talkie?" he asked. He had picked up one of Caroline's gadgets-which, on closer inspection, was indeed a walkie-talkie-and was fidgeting with it, turning it over in his hands.

Caroline glanced at him. "Yes, it is" she said, before turning back, clearly intending to continue with her questions.

But Morgan spoke again. "Can you speak to the other cops through this?" he asked, holding it aloft.

Merrill sighed. "Morgan-"

Graham cut him off."Morgan, Officer Paski's here on a job. We need to-"

Caroline flashed him a placating smile. "It's fine, Graham. He's just curious." She turned to Morgan. "Yeah, we use them to talk to each other. Comes in handy if there's a big incident and there are a lot of us in several different areas at once."

Morgan nodded, examining the device more closely. I watched him, smiling. I'd liked walkie-talkies as a kid. I'd played with them for hours, holding entire imaginary conversations, with people nobody else could see. When she was home and had time, Colleen used to join in with me, laughing and encouraging me as I created new topics to talk about. I'd eventually stopped playing when I was ten-about a year after Colleen moved out. Imagination just made it all the more clear to me that there was nobody on the other end to listen.

Caroline watched him, too, smiling. Morgan stared at the walkie-talkie, entranced by the device. He smiled, his eyes skimming over the gadget, clearly absorbed.

Merrill moved his chair closer to mine, and leaned forward slightly, trying to get a better look at the object currently holding his nephew's attention. His arm brushed against mine, but this time, he didn't pull away. He stayed still, his skin taut and warm, and I froze, my heart thudding in my chest, suddenly seeming to need more oxygen than the room contained. I glanced up at Merrill to notice a small smile on his lips and his eyes on my face.

"You like that?"

I jumped before realising the question was not directed at me. I was not the only one. Merrill started too, and immediately moved back in his seat, his arm sliding away from mine. I dropped my gaze for an instant, trying not to feel too disappointed.

Morgan-the person to whom Caroline's question had actually been addressed-looked up and nodded with a quick upwards twitch of the mouth. Was it my imagination or did his eyes flick quickly in mine and Merrill's direction, and then dart away again, a small smirk rising to his lips?

Before I could wonder any further, though, Caroline spoke again. "You got an old baby monitor around?"

I frowned, momentarily confused by the question.

Morgan was slightly quicker on the uptake. "Bo has an old baby monitor," he told the policewoman. Right on cue, there was a loud shriek from the television. I winced and hoped Bo would have the sense to turn the volume down. I saw her father frown, and dart an anxious glance through the door.

Caroline didn't seem to notice. "Well, you can use Bo's baby monitor as a walkie-talkie." She grinned, as did I, clearly anticipating Morgan's reaction.

She was not disappointed. Morgan glanced up quickly. "You can?" he asked, excitement brightening his eyes. I felt my smile widen, thrilled to see Morgan so happy. It had been a while since I'd seen him smile like that, seen that spark of interest in his eyes, and all it had taken was one little walkie-talkie to bring it out of him.

Caroline's grin broadened. "Mm-hm" she replied. "It only works one way, but that'll do fine. That is, until someone gets you an old walkie-talkie left over at the station."

"So you'd be able to hear someone else, but they couldn't hear you" I told him, before realising that, since he wasn't stupid, he'd probably already worked that out. God, the lack of sleep was messing with my head this morning.

Merrill sniggered. "Yeah, so just make sure you use it for the right stuff!" he warned his nephew, winking at him from across the table. I elbowed him, pretty sure Morgan was too young to get the innuendo.

There was a loud screech and a cartoon exclamation of "Stop, it's hideous!" from the television. Apparently reaching his last nerve, Graham stood up and headed for the family room. "Bo" we heard him say, and I winced automatically, anticipating a telling-off for Graham's younger child.

Caroline glanced down at the tabletop and a slightly awkward silence fell over us all. Now that Graham was gone, we couldn't really talk much about what had happened the previous night until he returned, and the walkie-talkie topic would get pretty old pretty fast.

Merrill let his gaze fall downwards, and I took the opportunity to stare at him again. I might have to stop that habit before I landed myself with a restraining order.

But I couldn't help it. He _was_ good-looking. He was slightly paler this morning from lack of sleep-as were all of us-but his eyes still glittered slightly, despite the dark circles beneath them that clearly indicated a restless night. His dark hair caught the sunlight through the kitchen window and turned lighter, somehow giving his whole face a younger look. The firm set of his lips-

I stopped my mind before it could go too far.

_He's Graham's brother_ I reminded myself. _He's Graham's brother. Think about it. Even if-and we're talking about a millionth of a chance here-he liked you too, think about what could happen. What if you start something with him and then you break up? How awkward are the family weddings going to be then? Seriously..._

Yeah, I knew all that. Still, I could dream. Plus, it wasn't as though Merrill was going to be interested in me, anyway-was he? I mean, he was five years older than me! Yeah, not that much of an age gap, but still...

That didn't mean I couldn't think about him though. Like right now, I was thinking about the strange scar above his lip-wondering where he'd got it, what had happened. It didn't detract from his appearance at all, but I couldn't help being curious. The scar made him look kind of strong, brave, the kind of guy who-

I pulled myself together. Enough, Isabelle. Enough.

I couldn't avoid speaking to him, though. I mean, that would just be rude.

"Did you get any more sleep, last night, then?" I asked him, deliberately casual, yet mentally wincing at how clunky the remark sounded to my ears. "After our visitor on the roof?"

Merrill looked up and smirked. "Not really" he replied. "Mostly just sat up, waiting, in case the guy came back."

I leant forward. "What were you going to do- be the strong guy, protecting us all?" The words came out slightly differently from how they sounded in my head. In my mind, it had been a simple enough question, a light joking comment on his antics last night. Out loud, the words sounded-different. Gently teasing, slightly provocative, almost-flirtatious.

Though, then again, maybe that wasn't a bad thing, whispered my brain before I could stop it.

And unless I was very much mistaken, Merrill didn't seem to mind. In fact, his smile grew slightly. "I was thinking about it" he replied, a teasing note in his own voice. "You know-given that you're a girl and all-"  
>I punched him on the arm.<p>

"Ow! What was that for?" Merrill complained, rubbing his shoulder. But it hadn't hurt him that much-I could tell from the way his eyes glittered as he spoke.

Still, I pretended otherwise. He might be cute, but NO-ONE got away with a remark like that.

"You know darn well what that was for! You just made one of the most sexist remarks possible!"  
>Merrill was grinning again. "Just telling it like it is," he smiled, settling back in his seat. His lips curved up again, slightly crooked, in a way that quickened my heart rate, even as I tried to come up with a stunningly witty reply.<p>

Unfortunately, all I came up with was a full-force "YOU-" before Graham re-entered the room, but I'm sure I made my point.

Graham stood still in the doorway for a moment, obviously wondering why his sister-in-law had just been shrieking at his younger brother. Caroline and Morgan, seated at the opposite end of the table, were both grinning.

Normally, I would have pursued the subject, but to be honest, even I recognised the importance of just getting on with the police interview. I mean, all joking aside, what if this guy did come back? We wouldn't be protected. We wouldn't have a clue what to do. Best to talk to the police now, and get whoever it was caught as quickly as possible.

So I shut up, vowing to continue this "discussion" with Merrill later.

"What's wrong?" asked Graham, staring at the furious glare on my face. Merrill slumped back in his seat, grinning and raised an eyebrow at me, daring me to tell his brother the problem.

I rolled my eyes. "Nothing."

Graham raised an eyebrow, but, apparently deciding not to pursue the subject himself, turned round and headed back into the family room, to continue his "chat" with his daughter. I stared down at the tabletop, flushing slightly.

Perhaps to diffuse the tension building in the room, Caroline broached an entirely new topic. "So how are you, Merrill?" she asked, with a brief smile.

Merrill glanced up at her, before returning his attention to the tabletop, on which he was tracing an interesting pattern with his fingers. "Fine" he replied informatively.

Caroline smiled. "How's work at the gas station?"

At this, I blinked. "You work in a gas station?" I asked, turning to him. "I thought you played baseball?"

For a moment-just a moment-Merrill's gaze flickered. His brows furrowed and the green of his eyes seemed to darken, suddenly hidden in shadow. I stared at him, surprised.

The strange look on his face was gone as quickly as it came. A second later, Merrill was grinning, shrugging slightly, leaning back casually in his chair. "Used to play baseball" he corrected me. "Long time ago." He leaned forward, supporting his head on his hand, shrugging again, as though it didn't matter, as though it wasn't important at all. But, watching him closely, I remembered the faint shadow that had crossed his face at my question and stared a second longer before looking away.

Caroline cleared her throat, breaking the slightly awkward silence that had fallen once again over the table. "So how's work going, Merrill?"

Merrill grinned and raised an eyebrow. "Stimulating" he replied, in as dead-pan a tone as possible. I laughed softly, attracting Caroline's attention.

Her eyes softened when they landed on me-as people's eyes always did these days, ever since they'd each found out about my sister. "And how are you doing, Isabelle?"

I lowered my gaze, all laughter fading from my mind. I hated that question. What did she expect me to say? That I could spend a day in classes now? That I could hold a conversation with people now? That I could do anything, anything at all, since that night six months ago?  
>Or did she expect me to tell her the truth? That sometimes, I still had to lock myself in the toilets at college to stop myself bursting out crying in front of everyone? That almost every night I would fly bolt upright in bed, woken by the sound of my own screams, drenched in sweat, pulled from a nightmare of images of my sister's body pinned between a truck and a tree, life draining from her eyes as I was forced to watch? That sometimes, even though it had been six months, even though her children were coping, even though her husband was coping- hell, even though our parents seemed to be coping- I still felt like I was crumbling to pieces with missing her?<p>

But no. She probably didn't want all that. So I settled on an easy, simple, all-purpose answer. "I'm good, thanks."

Caroline nodded once, not taking her eyes from my face. I'd known her by sight for years, and she'd occasionally turned up at my high school for the customary lectures on drugs and sex and peer pressure. And, of course, car accidents.

But it wasn't until six months ago, that I'd got to know her better. That I'd actually needed to.

Now, she was on first-name terms with my family. She'd been great, to give her credit-helping out with grief counselling, coming to tell my parents what had happened, getting us through the trial-that kind of thing. She was a good police officer. But, if it was all the same to her, I wouldn't mind not knowing her this well, I wouldn't mind not knowing her at all, if that would mean that that accident, that fatal car crash, had never happened. No. I wouldn't mind that.

But then again, this wasn't her fault.

So I forced myself to smile harder. "How about you?" I asked carefully, keeping my eyes low. I'd been like this as a kid-not wanting to meet anyone's gaze, and recently, it had come back with a vengeance. Annoying, to be honest.

Caroline shrugged. "Can't complain" she told me. "How are your folks doing?" Her eyes filled with the familiar sympathy again.

I gave a half-shrug. "They're-doing okay." Well, my mom had gone back to work and my father would occasionally mention my sister's name. Pretty good for two grieving parents, when you thought about it.

Glancing up, I noticed Merrill sitting quietly in his seat, doing nothing but watching me. I met his gaze half-defensively, an automatic response. However, the look in his eyes stopped me in my tracks. It wasn't sympathy or pity, as I expected these days, as I was used to. Instead, it was a look of gentleness, of caring. It was a look I didn't expect to see. It was almost a look of someone understanding.

I stared back-again. Well, what was there to say? And looking at him was no hardship, after all. Wasn't something I particularly minded-especially as he didn't seem to be looking away..

Caroline cleared her throat, and I jumped a little. She was watching Merrill and I with a raised eyebrow, with Morgan grinning beside her.

I fixed my gaze on the tabletop sharpish, feeling my cheeks burn red.

If Caroline noticed-and let's face it, it would have been hard for her not to, with my face being warm enough to melt a pond in winter-she didn't comment. Instead, she merely addressed Merrill again.

"You know, I never got a chance to tell you" she said quietly, shifting slightly in her seat. "But I thought you moving in here with your brother after-" She glanced first at Morgan and then at me, to signify what she was referring to.

For some reason, that niggled at me. And for some strange, mental, completely crazy reason, I snapped, just like I had at Merrill the previous night, at the dinner table.

"You can say her name, you know, Caroline. You can say Colleen's name." I told her. Caroline stared at me, startled. I stared back, feeling the hot coils of anger working up from my stomach, the heat rising in my head the way it did so often these days.

"What?" I asked, staring around at everyone. "What's wrong with saying her name? What the heck's the point of not saying Colleen's name? What's the point of not saying what happened?" Merrill was staring at me, now, and so was Morgan. But I was already speaking again, my words tumbling over each other, having risen to my mouth on a fury too fast to have sorted themselves out properly. "It's not going to change things, is it? It's not going to bring her back." Morgan flinched, a visible movement that jarred his whole body. I felt the first pangs of guilt, of regret, of sorrow, for losing my temper, for letting my mouth get the better of me, as usual. But I carried on, anyway. "It's not going to make her less dead."

My words hung in the air, like the silence after a boxer's punch.

Morgan was staring at the tabletop, stiller than I'd ever seen him, his head lowered so I couldn't see his face properly. But I caught a glimpse of it, and that was enough to make me wince, my conscience pricking me as hard as a dagger can stab.

Caroline was still staring, her eyes wide, and when she spoke again, her voice was very quiet. "I'm sorry, Isabelle. I didn't mean to upset you. At all. I just-"

I found my own voice. "No, Caroline, it's-OK.I-I shouldn't-" I tried to explain, but the words wouldn't come. I scrubbed my hand across my eyes, shaking slightly. What had happened? What was wrong with me? Why was I getting so angry at Caroline, who was only trying to help?

Why was I getting so angry at _everyone_ who was only trying to help?

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to look Caroline in the eye. "I'm sorry" I told her, quietly, swallowing hard. "It's just-I just get-"

I blinked, looking down. The last thing Morgan needed right now was to see me cry-I didn't want to upset him any more than I had already.

"It's okay." Caroline told me, just as quietly. "Really. It's okay."

A hand stroked my arm, making me look up. It was Merrill.

He was staring at me, his eyes softer than I'd have thought possible, one arm sliding around my shoulders. "You okay?"

OK, it was one of the most pointless questions ever asked, but it was still sweet of him.

And to be honest, I wasn't in the best state to be snippy about it. In fact, I didn't even know how to answer. So I just made a weird movement with my shoulders-half-shrug, half-slump. I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths to calm any tears.

Then suddenly-somehow-I had my head buried in Merrill's shoulder, and his arms were around my back and one of his hands was tangled in my hair and he was making vaguely soothing noises, and I was choking back tears, and the entire time he was hugging me and holding me and not letting me go.

It only lasted about a minute, of course, before I got a hold of myself. It was hard. Images of my sister's face kept flashing before my eyes while part of me-a more selfish part of me- was more concerned with the fact that Merrill was hugging me, that this was the second time in two days that he'd done this and there was a part of my mind that was only aware of how close he was to me and how gentle he was being and how strong and warm and real he was.

Then I got a hold on myself.

I sat up slightly, scrubbing my hand across my eyes again. "S-sorry" I told Merrill, who shook his head, dismissing my apology. I sat up, turning back to Morgan and Caroline. Morgan was staring at the table, and looking at him more closely, I saw only too clearly the silent tears running down his cheeks.

"Oh, Morgan-" I was already half out of my seat and as he turned to face me, I moved towards him, reaching out to envelop him in a hug. He buried his face in my side. Even Caroline looked teary-eyed.

I blinked hard. This was all my fault. If I hadn't got so upset over the stupid comment, none of this would have happened. Unable to articulate this, I simply kept my head down and hugged Morgan, hugged him as hard as possible, until finally he sniffed, wiped his eyes and sat up again, turning back to the table.

Caroline, casting me a quick wary glance, turned her gaze back to Merrill. "I just wanted to say" she told him quietly. "Moving in here with your brother-helping out like that-that was a nice thing to do."

Merrill nodded, looking slightly shaken for some reason.

"Well, I don't think I'm helping much" he muttered, returning his gaze to the tabletop as I sat down again.

I stared at him. God knows why, but I'd thought he was probably the one person in this house coping best-the one person who seemed to be really helping Graham cope too. A person who-so far-had even helped me. He'd found me in the corn crops. He'd held me last night when I needed it. He'd comforted me less than two minutes ago, when I'd sat slumped in his shoulder, overcome once again by the lonely, desperate ache for my sister.

How could he possibly think he wasn't helping?

Caroline glanced at Morgan and then back to Merrill, before voicing the words in my head. "You are."

Merrill shrugged, slumping down in his seat with an expression that, for the first time since I'd known him, made him look slightly shy. I moved closer to him.

"You do" I whispered. "You do help."

Merrill smiled, shaking his head.

"You do" I persisted. "You do. You help them." I gestured to Morgan. "And you help Graham loads just by being here. And you help-" I swallowed, but forced myself to go on. "Me." I lifted my head, meeting his eyes. "You help me." I finished, my voice softer than ever. Thank God-I didn't want everyone hearing what I was saying.

Merrill's eyes looked back into mine filled with a confusion of emotion. He shifted slightly in his seat, a blush rising in his cheeks.

Dropping my gaze, I tried to breathe normally. Trying not to notice how close he was to me again. Trying to ignore the fact I could feel the heat from his skin-

Graham cleared his throat loudly.

I leapt away from Merrill as though I'd been shot.

"What's going on?" Graham asked, glancing uncertainly from Merrill and I at one end of the table, to Caroline and Morgan at the other. How long had he been standing there? Had he heard what Merrill had said-"I don't think I'm helping much"? Had he heard our replies?

And was he slightly perturbed by the way his younger brother and his sister-in-law had been sitting, staring at each other? In front of two other people?

Still, I doubted I'd get the answers to any of these questions. And I also doubted Graham would appreciate me ignoring his.

So I replied with my good, old, multi-purpose-but-completely-unbelievable answer.

"Nothing."

Merrill, leaning back in his chair, nodded in quick agreement.

Graham glanced from one face to the next, clearly waiting for some kind of explanation, but, when no-one responded, seemed to give up. He sighed and sat down in a chair to Merrill's left, with a brief "Sorry" to Caroline.

Caroline sighed and sat up straighter in her seat, getting down to business. Merrill and I did the same, and, at the head of the table, so did Morgan, eliciting a quick grin from me. Graham, on the other hand, merely leant forward slightly, cast a quick sharp glance at all of us, and then fixed his gaze on Caroline as he waited for her to speak.

Caroline cleared her throat. "OK, so far I have-" She glanced down at her notes. "'It was very dark.'"

Well, that was useful. I was sure our criminal would be caught in no time with that stunning amount of information.  
>I stifled my snigger, however, sensing that, given the seriousness of the situation, it might not go down well. Also, given what had just happened, I wasn't really in the mood for sarcastic remarks right at that moment.<p>

Graham cast another glance at me, before answering Caroline's question. "Yes, it was."  
>Brilliant. There could be an escaped killer running around. We could all currently be in life-threatening danger. There could be some guy sneaking around outside watching this house right at that very moment, and the one thing we could come up with as a lead was "It was very dark." I mentally ruled out any career in the police force.<p>

Judging from the slightly exasperated look on Caroline's face, she was thinking along the same lines. But to give her credit, she hid her feelings well. "And you can't describe him at all?" she asked, looking at each of our faces, with a kind of hopeful desperation.

Merrill, Graham and I looked at each other. I thought desperately, for something, anything, significant about the figure we'd seen last night. Anything that might identify him to the police.

But there was nothing. Nothing at all. All I could think of to say was the illuminating phrase Caroline had just read out to us: "It was very dark."

But I didn't bother, because, to be honest, it had been said only once and the phrase was already getting kind of old. Instead, I just nodded along with Graham and Merrill.

Caroline stared at us, her mask of patience slipping, letting exasperation seep through around the edges. "Don't you think that's kind of odd?"

Merrill, Graham and I glanced at each other once again. To be honest, I didn't get the point of the question-of _course_ it was odd. Of course we all _knew_ it was odd. The question was, what could we do about it?

Graham spoke for all of us when he looked back at Caroline. "A little."

Caroline pushed aside her notes and fixed us all with a stern gaze. Merrill and I sat up straighter.

Caroline narrowed her eyes slightly and then sighed. "I don't know whether to look for a giant or a midget," she told us quietly, more softly than her expression suggested.

Both Merrill and Graham bridled slightly. Caroline had barely finished her sentence before Graham's mouth opened. "Well, he definitely wasn't a midget."

Merrill, sitting at his brother's side, nodded vigorously. I, the only one out of the three of us not to have seen our little guest, shrugged-I wasn't in a position to comment.

Caroline leaned back in her chair, with the expression of someone who has just spotted a small but possibly vital clue. "OK" she said softly. "So he was tall."

Graham glanced at us for assurance. I just shrugged, as curious as Caroline to hear what he'd say. Merrill, on the other hand, simply nodded again. I wondered if he'd now abandoned speaking for the day.

Graham, completing his utterly silent exchange with Merrill, turned back to Caroline quickly. "I would say so, yes."

Perfect. Now the ID we had on this guy was that he was tall. Well, _that_ sure narrowed it down.

Caroline evidently agreed. "Over six feet?" she questioned, with a raised eyebrow, and a hint of desperation in her voice.

Graham glanced at Merrill, who dropped his gaze to the table under a brow furrowed with thought. I watched them both, as did Morgan, with a look of quiet but keen interest on his small face.

Merrill glanced up at the ceiling, apparently attempting to measure the intruder's height with his mind's eye. I fought back a smirk, as he leant further back on his chair, possibly attempting to picture our visitor standing in Graham's kitchen in order to give him a fair approximation of his height. I fought back another grin.  
>Finally, Merrill let his chair fall back onto all four legs with a sigh. He turned and gave the policewoman possibly the most innovative, informative remark I'd heard all morning.<p>

"It was very dark."  
>That was when I cracked up laughing. Seriously, I know it wasn't the best time, but I doubt Jesus would have been able to keep a straight face at that point.<p>

Merrill glared at me. "I'm glad you think it's funny" he told me, in a tone sterner than any voice I'd heard him use so far.

I was spluttering with laughter. "Oh, come on, Merrill! It _is_ funny! OK, funny in a kind of morbid way-"

"Yeah, it's _really_ funny that we're all being stalked by some nutso lunatic-"

"Calm down, Merrill-" Graham was already leaning forward, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. "She didn't mean anything by it."  
>Merrill was still glaring at me. Well, so much for how gentle he'd been with me a few minutes ago. He turned to Graham. "She can answer me herself, you know" he told his brother. "She's not deaf. Or stupid. "<p>

I blinked, remembering my similar comments to him the previous night, over Bo's water fixation at the dinner table.

Merrill turned back to me. "And she's not a little kid, either," he continued. "She can answer for herself." His gaze intensified. "Can't you?"

His arms were folded across his chest and his brows were furrowed in a glare, but his eyes-strangely enough-didn't look angry. No, something else-something just as intense, but something else-an entirely different emotion.

I stared back at him, my laughter abruptly dying away. "Yeah," I said, not breaking eye contact with him for a second. "I guess."

Merrill's expression changed-not hugely, not surprisingly, not shockingly-but it changed. A small smirk lifted the corner of his mouth, and his eyes glinted, slightly softer than before.

A silence fell over the table, a silence in which I dropped my gaze, not knowing what to do, what to say next. I swung round slightly in my seat, my eyes practically drilling holes in the woodwork, in order to avoid looking anywhere near Merrill. Glancing cautiously towards the family room doorway, I noticed Graham, eyes narrowed, staring at me.

Caroline cleared her throat again, sounding a little more self-conscious this time. "Ooo-kay." She cleared her throat again, sitting up a little straighter. She glanced down at her papers, before suddenly lifting her head and staring, hard, at each of us in turn. I swallowed nervously.

"Just wondering.." Caroline told us in a tone that suggested anything but. "How certain are you that this was a male?"  
>Merrill blinked in surprise. "Oh, I don't know-I don't know any girls who could run like that" he snorted, as though the very idea was unthinkable.<p>

That did it.

I swung round to face him. "_What_? What do you mean "you don't know any girls who could run like that?" Plenty of girls can run fast!" I glared at him hard, forcing myself to ignore the slightly crooked smirk that had formed at his lips as I'd begun my diatribe. I wondered for a second if, given the brief argument we'd had about ten minutes earlier, he'd made the remark merely to annoy me. If so, he'd succeeded.

"I didn't say girls couldn't run fast-" grinned Merrill. He seemed to have cheered up pretty fast for someone who had, in the space of ten minutes, playfully argued with me about sexism, perhaps almost, maybe, been mildly flirting with me, let me cry on his shoulder, got annoyed with me for not taking the issue of our stalker-visitor seriously enough, and now had reverted to playfully arguing with me about sexism again. Pretty rapid mood swings, when you think about it.

But we were having an argument here.

"Yes you did!" I told him. "You said you didn't-"

"I said I didn't _know_ any girls who could run that fast-"

"You said-" I stopped, brought up short. I tried again. "Just because you don't _know_-"

"I said that-"

"OK!"

We both jumped at Caroline's voice. I turned to see her glaring at the pair of us. "Could the two of you let us get on with the interview?"

I shrugged. "Fine." I then proceeded to fold my arms, slump back in my chair, and scowl-an act that greatly impressed everyone in the room, I'm sure.

With a stern look at me, Caroline turned back to a-now considerably smugger-Merrill. I contented myself with pulling a face at the wood of the tabletop.

"I don't know, Merrill." Caroline told him, chewing her lip. "I've seen those women on the Olympics. They can run like the wind."

"See?" I muttered.

Merrill wrinkled his brows. "This guy got on our roof in like a second" he told us, waving a hand to illustrate the point. He stared at both of us, clearly waiting for some kind of reaction. "Our roof is ten feet high!" He stared at us again, clearly anticipating our agreement.

Caroline opened her mouth. I waited, expecting a brilliantly persuasive line of reasoning that would knock Merrill's argument right out of the water.

"They have women's high jumping in the Olympics." Caroline suggested tentatively.

I winced. OK, I got the point, but maybe the Olympics possibility was going a bit far.

Caroline continued. "They got these Scandinavian women who can jump clean over me."

I raised my head to look at her. I got that she was using this to illustrate something. I got that it might be something important. I just didn't have a clue what it was.

Graham voiced my confusion in his next sentence. "Caroline." Very slowly, he raised his head to look at her. "I know you're making a point here but I just don't know what it is."

Caroline sighed-perhaps frustrated with how slow we were all being. I didn't blame her, in some ways. This was probably the most annoying police investigation/interview/whatever she'd ever been involved in. I think I'd have walked out, myself.

She lowered her voice. God knows why-there was only us to hear her.

"An out-of-town woman stopped by the diner yesterday and started yelling and cussing because they didn't have her favourite cigarettes at the vending machine. She scared a couple of the customers."  
>I stared at her, seriously wondering where this was going.<p>

Caroline shrugged slightly. "No-one's seen her since. And my point is, we don't know anything about the person you saw, and we should keep all possibilities available."

I sat very quietly. So the possibilities of our intruder's identity were that he was an obsessed stalker type person who had fixated (randomly) on us or that he was a she and was a berserk foul-mouthed chain-smoking woman who liked eating at diners. We'd made progress.

Perhaps this was the right moment for Bo to enter the room. Either way, the sight of her cheered me and distracted me from trying to decide which possibility of our intruder's identity was worse.

"Dad, where's the remote?"

Graham turned to her. "I don't know, baby, why don't you look under the sofa?"

With a curious glance at the rest of us, Bo left the room. I had a feeling Graham had sent her off deliberately-he didn't want her hearing the details of the previous night.

Merrill barely waited until his niece had left before addressing Caroline. "Excluding the possibility" he said, raising one hand in the air to demonstrate how likely this theory was. "That a female Scandinavian Olympian was running around outside our house last night-" He curled his lip. "What else might be a possibility?"  
>I sniggered. I couldn't help myself-even under the circumstances, Merrill's remark was actually pretty funny.<p>

Caroline, judging from the narrowing of her eyes, did not agree. My laughter died away. "I'm not done asking questions" she told us. She fixed a steely glare on Merrill. "And I don't appreciate sarcasm."

If I'd been Merrill and in a particularly snarky mood, I might have told Caroline that I didn't particularly appreciate vaguely formulated theories about Scandinavian Olympians when someone might be plotting to attack my family either. But I wasn't Merrill and I wasn't in the mood to make smart remarks for once, so I stayed silent. Though to be honest, I'd felt a little sarcasm had actually lightened the mood myself.

However, Caroline-apparently-did not think so. She turned back to Graham, her voice becoming more serious. "Do you two have anyone who might have a grudge or something against you?"  
>I looked at Caroline, seriously wondering if she realised who she was talking to. Graham Hess, father of two, just lost a wife, used to be a freakin' <em>reverend<em>, for God's sake. How many enemies did she think he had? Merrill, however, I could understand.

Caroline persisted. "Maybe a-a church member? Who might not have liked the fact you left the church?"  
>Oh. That was an interesting thought. I mentally took back my previous silent sarcasm.<p>

Graham stared at the table. I could almost track his thoughts as a myriad of different expressions moved across his face. Finally, he looked at Caroline again. "I don't think so." And I could tell from the way he spoke that he almost wished there was someone like that, someone who was now skulking around his house in the dead of night making his life a misery, because at least then we'd know for certain that that was all this was. A petty act of vengeance. And not something else. Something more sinister.

Merrill sighed. "OK, I was out of line with the whole Scandinavian Olympian thing."

I smirked slightly.

Merrill continued, staring at Caroline as he spoke. "It's just-I'm pretty strong-and I'm pretty fast-" He smiled self-consciously. "And I was running as fast as I could and this guy, he was.." He shook his head, slightly, as though unable to articulate what he wanted to say. "He was just toying with us" he finally finished, placing his head on his hands. He looked exhausted, more tired than he'd seemed all morning.

Looking more closely at him, I found myself wondering if he was all right. I mean, we were all tired, but Merrill had been up for the rest of the night-I chose to disregard the fact that I hadn't had much sleep either. But Merrill looked kind of-washed out, almost. I stared at him, trying to pretend it was perfectly normal to be this concerned about someone I'd known for approximately twenty-three and a half hours. Not that I was counting.

Merrill turned his head to the side and caught my gaze. He smiled wearily. "What?"

Before I could reply, another, quieter voice spoke. "There's only food under the sofa."

Bo was standing quietly by her father's chair, calm and steadfast in her urgent mission to locate her favourite cartoon show.

Graham sighed, slightly agitated. "Baby," he told her, lowering his voice. "Why don't you just change the channel on the television?"

Bo stared at him and blinked solemnly. "I did."

I wasn't paying too much attention to this; I was still-annoyingly-unable to pull my gaze away from Merrill, who, watching his niece, didn't notice.

Graham sighed again. "And?"  
>"Same show's on every station."<p>

It took precisely one second for my brain to register those words. And looking up, I noticed I wasn't the only one.

Graham had frozen, staring at his daughter. Merrill raised his head to look at his brother. Caroline had stopped in the middle of turning over a page of notes. Even Morgan was watching his sister.

When a show's on every station, it's something big. The last time a show was on every station, it was 9/11. When a show's on every station, everyone watches.

When a show's on every station-you know something serious is happening.

Graham spoke softly. "Every station."

Merrill raised his head off his arm. Caroline stared at the little girl. Morgan's gaze turned to Merrill and I. And for one split second, Graham looked at all of us.

Every station.

I don't know which one of us moved first, but suddenly we were all in motion-all of us standing up, heading towards the family room, towards the television and whatever news was serious enough to interrupt all other broadcasts.

My head was spinning. I remembered 9/11. I remembered it painfully clearly, staring at the TV screen with girls from my classes, frozen but shaking, unable to believe what I was seeing. Unable to believe so many lives could be torn apart so fast.

Of course, I knew better now.

"What's going on?" I whispered to Merrill, as we walked through to the family room. OK, it was a stupid question. "Do you reckon its' terrorists?"

Merrill shrugged, as nonplussed as I was.

The television stood in front of the other doorway, and I stepped in front of it with no idea of what I expected to see. I was right not to expect. Whatever I'd anticipated wouldn't have compared with what appeared. Though, in hindsight, it might really have been pretty obvious.

Crop circles.

Three of them. In a field of wheat.

My jaw dropped.

Looking around, I noticed Merrill, Graham and Caroline were all wearing the same expression-rather like they'd been hit over the head with a bowling ball and hadn't figured it out yet. I didn't blame them. At that moment, John Lennon could have tap-danced into the room wearing a feather duster on his head, and I'd have barely noticed.

Good God.

After one of the longest minutes I'd ever known, Graham spoke. "Bo, turn up the sound." His voice was almost a whisper.

The image changed as Bo leaned forward, her finger pressing the volume button. A man was sitting calmly on the television screen, in what looked like a library, talking to the camera. The sound came back up in time for us to hear his first few words.

"Crop signs first emerged in the late 70s with renewed interest.."  
>My jaw, which I had just been raising back into its' normal position, dropped again. At the same moment, I had the randomly tangential thought that the guy on the TV looked a little like Einstein.<p>

Another time, I'd have sniggered but even I sensed that now was not the moment.

The guy-the scientist or whatever he was-had continued speaking. "...in extraterrestrial life. They died out by the early 80s', dismissed as hoaxes."

Morgan and Bo stared at the television, entranced. I barely had time to register their interest before the scientist/professor/whatever he was spoke again. "This new resurgence is wholly different."

The image changed to that of India on the world map. India, with many circles dotted about its' territories, and a few cities labelled. Dots which seemed to represent..

The guy's voice continued. "The speed and the quantity in which it has appeared implies the coordination of individuals over many countries."

The image cut once again to a field of crops, stalks swaying in the air. People walked in and out of the plants, shaking their heads, clearly dumbfounded. An aerial shot of the field appeared. People were moving on the ground, running about in three huge..

Crop circles.

One of my hands flew to my mouth in a completely useless gesture.

The camera panned out to show the circles in India were slightly more creative than the ones that had appeared in our crops. Ours had been a few circles and a key shape. Theirs were-OK, circles, but other, more intricate shapes too. Even in the seriousness of the moment, the thought crossed my mind that I would be seriously ticked off if we'd received the most boring crop circles of all.

Then I realised what the appearance of those crop circles might mean and shook my head to bring myself back to the present situation.

The scientist person's voice was back. "Either this is one of the most elaborate hoaxes ever created.."

I looked around at the others, wondering if anyone thought that was the case.

The voice continued. "Or basically.."

We waited.

The scientist guy seemed to take a breath. "It's for real."

I sank down into a sitting position. The sofa was a few centimetres further away than I thought. I sat down and slid off a few seconds later, landing on the floor in an undignified heap. I winced. Nice one, Isabelle. Merrill must really be interested now.

It was a mark of the severity of the situation that nobody laughed. I presumed it was also a mark of the severity of the situation that nobody helped me get to my feet. Thanks, guys.

I scrambled upright, placing a hand on Bo's shoulder to help me. Behind me, I heard a sharp click, and turned to see Morgan sliding his asthma inhaler into his mouth. His face was strangely lit, almost feverishly bright with excitement. Bo was completely still beside him, but her dark blue eyes were larger than I'd ever seen them and she stared solemnly at the TV screen.

Morgan removed the inhaler from his mouth. He stared at the varying images now flickering across the television, his eyes full of too many thoughts to describe. "Extraterrestrials" he murmured.

Graham and Merrill were both staring at the TV screen with entirely different expressions. Merrill looked sceptical, disbelieving-which, to be fair, wasn't totally unexpected for him. I'd known him for a day and already I guessed he wasn't the type of guy to believe in the supernatural.

Graham's, however, was completely different. His eyes were wide, his expression stunned. He stared at the images almost like he-believed.

Caroline, her eyes narrowed, opened her mouth and spoke for all of us. "What in God's name is going on?"  
>Nobody answered her.<p>

The sunlight fell across the room. Bo's water glasses twinkled from their various hiding spots. The six of us stood still as we watched the television screen, staring at signs and symbols appearing across the planet, and in that moment we were all thinking the same thing.

That every one of them was different but all or most of them looked for all the world just like the marks in our crops.

**Well, that was part 4! I will try to get Part 5 up soon, but I have got exams over the next few weeks so things might be a little difficult! However, I will try to get it up soon!**

**Thanks to everyone who reads this and all the favourite story stuff-that made my day! Thanks. And if you enjoyed this, please review! :)**


	5. A Trip and a Reminder

**Hiya! I'm so sorry it's taken this long! But it's a longer chapter this time so here we go!**

**Exams are nearly over so next chapter should be up quicker than this one was! Sorry it took so long!**

**Thanks for all the reviews, favourites, subscriptions, it means a lot! Just to remind everyone, I do not own Signs or any of these characters apart from Isabelle and her parents!**

**Here's Chapter 5!**

Well, given the possible alien invasion, possible Hess-farm stalker, and definite weird friendship-maybe-more thing going on with Merrill, it wasn't surprising that when my mom rang less than an hour later and asked how things were going, I seriously wondered how to answer that question.

I replied with a response sparkling with wit and articulacy.

"Erm.."

"What do you mean, 'erm'? What's wrong? Has something happened?" My mother, ever the worrier. Funny, I used to think that was my job.

"Nothing's wrong, Mom" I sighed. "Everything's fine, there's just been a lot happening."

"What do you mean 'a lot happening'?" My mother, still wanting more details, though her tone had changed from anxious to interested.

I sighed. "Well-there are some funny marks in Graham's crops-"

I told her the story of the crop circles as quickly as possible. Well, _most_ of the story. _Some_ of the story.

A _bit_ of the story.

"So, let's get this straight," my mother sighed, as I finished. "There've been some pranksters on Graham's farm. They left some markings in the crops."  
>"Right" I nodded.<br>"These marks look like crop circles-the kind of stuff you see on TV."  
>"Right" I nodded again.<p>

"But that's all that's happened?"  
>I bet nobody could have predicted my next answer.<p>

"Right." And another nod. I really was making sparkling conversation today.

"There've been no weird sightings of people in the crops, no-one sneaking around.."

I winced. "No, really, everything's fine. Graham reckons it was just a one-off thing. Some kids fooling around, that's all." I said, trying to make my voice sound as light and breezy as possible, while feeling anything but.

OK, maybe I should have tried being honest. But I knew my mother. She was a top-grade worrier. If I let slip to her there was a possible stalker running around, there was a good chance she'd be driving up to the farm and begging me to come home within the next hour.

Still...

My mother sighed. "So you're sure that's all that's happened?"  
>I pulled the receiver away from my ear and frowned, before remembering my mother couldn't actually see me and so therefore my gesture was completely pointless.<p>

"Yeah, I'm sure."

My mother sighed again. When my mother sighs, it's generally not good.

"Then how come Graham called me a few minutes ago, to tell me that there was an intruder on the farm last night, that he somehow climbed onto the barn roof, and that you, Graham and Merrill were outside chasing him around the house?"

I swallowed.

"And that Caroline is just leaving the house after being called out early this morning to investigate this alleged incident?"

Damn.

"And that currently Morgan and Bo are in Graham's words "a little overexcited" because there have been several reports of crop circles on the news worldwide?"

Aaahh...

I closed my eyes, almost dropping the receiver. I fumbled for it, catching it one-handed at the last minute. I allowed myself a quick, silent cheer.

Then I sighed, resigned myself to the worst and brought the receiver back to my ear.

Amazingly, my mother was still talking. She apparently hadn't noticed my ten-second absence from the conversation.

"...well, Isabelle? What do you have to say?"

I sighed. I wondered whether to lie again, but quickly decided against it. I did have a brain, after all, and anyway, it would only take one more phone call to Graham for Mom to figure out I hadn't been truthful.

Drat.

"I just didn't want you freaking out, Mom" I said, heavily, not even bothering to protest. God, I must have been more tired than I thought. Then again, I might be more exhausted from the (many) emotions I'd been experiencing that morning. Hell, it wasn't even eleven o'clock yet and I could be dealing with an alien invasion, possible town pranksters and/or this weird friendship/more?/what? with Merrill. You'd think someone could give me a break.

My mother sighed. Again-apparently it was a new conversational tic. "What do you mean, 'you didn't want me freaking out'?"  
>I rolled my eyes. I knew she was surprised, but jeez. What the hell did she think I'd meant?<br>"I meant, I didn't want you freaking out. I didn't want you coming up here and dragging me home. I'm having a really good time. I want to stay. I haven't seen them in ages and I promised Morgan and Bo I'd stay two nights. I don't want to come home yet. I'm-enjoying it."

I finished my diatribe in a rush, suddenly realising I'd said a lot more than I meant to. And sounded a hell of a lot more awkward. I winced, waiting for her reply, sure she'd pick up on my strange eagerness. I mean, it would take somebody with the emotional range of a teaspoon not to.

Sure enough-

"Isabelle?" My mother's voice had taken on a questioning tone, almost slightly teasing. "Is something going on?"

I held my breath. I hadn't mentioned Merrill-there was no reason for her to think it was anything to do with him...

"Isabelle?"

And it wasn't-not totally, anyway. I did like spending time with Morgan and Bo. I wanted to talk to Graham more too-it had been ages since we'd last spoken properly. And...

"Isabelle?"

It wasn't really that unusual. I could stay if I wanted..

"Are you still there?"

I jumped, realising in my brilliance that I'd stood silent for a whole thirty seconds. Perfect.

"I'm still here" I told my mother, no doubt panicking on the other end of the phone.

"And?"

"And what?"

"You didn't answer my question!"

"What? Oh-" I winced, again. "No, there's-nothing going on."

No, absolutely nothing at all. Just weird obsessions, alien invasions and irate police investigations. All in a day's work.

"Are you sure?" The teasing note in my mother's voice was now more pronounced. Oh, God, please say she wasn't going to interrogate me about Merrill-please..

"Have you met Merrill yet?"

Yes, Mother, I have. You see, it would have been difficult to avoid meeting him seeing as I'm currently staying in his home. When you share a place of residence with someone, even if only temporarily, it's difficult to avoid running into them now and again.

However, I sensed this might not be the best reply, so I restrained myself. Somehow.

"Yep. He's-great." I winced for about the fifth time that morning at how clunky my description sounded. _He's great. He's great. Kill me now. Kill me now._

"'Great?" my mother repeated. "Great, huh?" She sounded weird-kind of smug, like one fat cat that's about to receive a nice juicy mouse slathered in whipped cream, except not quite as creepy.

"Yes" I repeated firmly. "He's great." I took a deep breath, forcing myself to sound as natural as possible.

Isn't it weird when you can actually _feel_ someone smirking over the phone? Just from the tone of their voice?

"So you like him then?"

I felt my face flush. That was too close to home.

"I guess" I said, desperately trying to sound as nonchalant/relaxed/bored of the subject as possible. "He's cool."  
><em>Please say that terrible sentence did not come out of my mouth. Oh my God; he's cool. He's cool. Kill me now. Kill me now.<em>

"So..."

I waited, frowning, waiting for the furnace in my cheeks to cool down.

There was no sound from the other end of the phone.

"So what?" I said, after an almost dead silence for at least twenty seconds. I mean, what the heck was my mother expecting me to say?

"So..does he like you?"

_Oh God, oh God no. Please say we are not going to have a mother-daughter girly bonding session where we talk about who's cute and who's not. Please say I do not get a warning about not dumbing myself down for a guy. Please say this does not turn into an after school special moment. Please..._

_Just stay calm, Isabelle. Just stay calm._

"I guess so" I muttered, trying to sound as casual as possible while simultaneously pacing back and forth, pushing my hand through my hair and biting my lip as I tried frantically to steer my mother as far away from the truth as possible. Thank God phones don't have hidden video cameras. "Why does it matter, anyway?" There-that might throw her off the scent.

In a million years.

"Just wondering.."

Yeah, and I was just wondering if Margaret Thatcher would like to be a guest at my college graduation ceremony. Like hell, Mom.

"So, as long as everything's okay..and Isabelle, please don't lie to me again." Mom sounded a lot more like her usual self now-that teasing note had gone from her voice at least. I shivered. Thank God. It could give me nightmares.

"I won't, Mom. Just didn't want you to panic." The quicker you agree with them, the quicker you get off the phone. An important life lesson.

"All right. Speak to you soon."  
>I opened my mouth and hesitated, torn between ending the conversation as soon as possible and asking my mother the question that had been preying on my mind all morning.<p>

I decided on the question. I had a few minutes to kill, after all.

"Mom?" I frowned, wondering how best to phrase things.

"Yes, dear?" For a moment, I just listened to her-to the slightly concerned note in her voice, the way she was immediately quiet on the other end of the phone, prepared to listen, whatever the conversation-and, despite my previous desire to end the call as quickly as possible, felt a sudden surge of homesickness.

"Just-" I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to arrange my thoughts, which currently were bouncing around, screaming, running riot and just generally causing chaos. I wondered briefly if I'd somehow taken amphetamines without realising. "Just-"

"What is it, Isabelle?" Her voice sounded less concerned now, more anxious, probing, waiting for me to tell her my problem, my worry, so she could pick it up in her hands, and make it fly away. The way she did so many times for me as a little girl. The way she sometimes seemed to spend her life doing.

Her and Colleen.

I shook my head. Just ask her.

"Do-you-you know what I've got?" I asked quickly, before I could wimp out. "Can-can it-it-it can come back, can't it?"

There was a dead silence on the other end of the phone. If I hadn't heard my mother's slight, regular breathing through the receiver, I might have been worried she'd collapsed into a seizure right there in the middle of the conversation. That would be a real disaster-ours was a new phone-if she went and collapsed, she'd wreck it.

"Can it come back?"

Well done, Mom. Repeat my question back to me. Real reassuring.

"Yeah." I swallowed, gripping the phone tighter. "It's just-" I closed my eyes, not knowing what to say.

There was a short silence.

"Isabelle." My mother's voice was quiet, a sound of forced calm. "Has it come back?"

I frowned. Could something come back if it had never gone away?  
>"It's been a bit worse lately" I said evasively, choosing not to admit how much worse. "But that might be-you know-to do with Colleen, mightn't it?"<br>There. I'd said my sister's name. I held my breath, waiting for my mother's reaction.

A second of silence passed. I winced. I'd upset her. I knew I'd upset her..

"Mom-"

"It might be." My mother's voice was suddenly brisker, businesslike. I sighed, knowing I'd hurt her, not intentionally, not spitefully, but hurt her, by bringing up my sister, something she still loathed to talk about, just like my problems. Hide things away and they'll disappear. My mother's philosophy on life.

"Why, Isabelle? Have-has it-?"

I sighed. I couldn't bring myself to tell her. It would worry her, and there was no point anyway. It wasn't like there was anything she could do to help.  
>"No, Mom, it's fine. I was just wondering about it, that's all." I tried to sound cheerful." Everything's great. Seriously. You don't need to worry." Except about the possibility of aliens, that is.<p>

You could practically hear my mother's sigh of relief on the other end of the phone. I'd changed the subject. My problem was gone from the conversation. Now we could blink, push it from our minds and pretend it had never been there in the first place. Story of my life.

"That's good." She made an effort to make her tone encouraging. "That's good, Isabelle. Well, I hope you're having a good time-"  
>"Do you believe all this, Mom?" I interrupted bluntly, not wanting to lose the opportunity to ask.<p>

There was a brief silence. "Believe what, Isabelle?"

_Does she think I will forget my name if she does not repeat it at the end of every sentence?_

"This crop circle stuff? Aliens. That kind of thing. Do-do you think it could be-"  
>My mother's laughter cut me off. I glared at the phone. Brilliant to have parents who take you seriously. Thanks, Mom. Owe you one.<p>

"Isabelle.."

_I will NOT forget my freaking name.._

"...sweetie, this is just some hoax. Like that War of the Worlds thing. On the radio. Everyone believed it was actually happening, remember? But it wasn't. It was a joke. Just like this time. " My mother's voice had taken on a soothing, maternal note, as though calming an angry six-year-old. "It's nothing to worry about, Isabelle."

_I do not need reassuring, Mother. I am not a child._

Yes, I was being grouchy. Yes, I was being unfair. Yes, there was no viable reason for me being in such a mood with her.

Yes-so what?

"I'll call you tomorrow" I muttered, starting to wish I'd never picked up the phone in the first place. Jeez, what a depressing phone call. A funeral would have been more cheerful.  
>"OK, sweetheart." Brilliant, my mother sounded concerned, too. Well done, Isabelle. This phone call was meant to reassure your mother-instead, it's worried her more. Nicely played.<p>

"Well, goodbye, Isabelle. Call me tomorrow, OK?"

And right like that, I was back to being pissed off at her. _Yes, Mother, I just said I would do that. And I will still do that. I have not forgotten my words in the last five seconds. You see, I am neither stupid nor mentally challenged._

"Yeah, I'll call you" I muttered back. God, I was cheerful this morning. Guess the lack of sleep was messing with that, too. After a grunted "Bye" I put the phone down. Now I was pissed off and mad at myself for being pissed off when I had no right to be. Then I got pissed off about that, too. Fantastic.

"That your mom?"

I jumped about two feet in the air.  
>"Sorry!" Merrill backed away slightly, his hands raised in mock surrender. "Didn't mean to scare you!"<p>

When I could breathe again, I turned to him. The way things were going, I'd be dead of a heart attack by the time I was due to return to college on Tuesday..

Then I thought of my sister, and remembered that joking about death wasn't really an option to me any more.

"Was that your mom?"  
>It says a lot about my state of mind that it took me a few moments to realise Merrill was speaking to me, when we were the only two people in the room. Then again, maybe it just said a lot about my intelligence.<br>"Yeah" I sighed. "She was freaking out, so I kind of toned everything down a bit for her. Told her there were just some weird marks in the corn, it wasn't a big deal, you know?"  
>Merrill nodded, frowning slightly.<p>

I sighed again. "Then it turned out Graham had already told her the full story, so that was completely pointless."

Merrill laughed. "You in trouble?" There was a faint teasing note in his voice now-the same as beforehand, when we'd been sitting at the table with Caroline. "Gonna get grounded? Get an early curfew?" He stepped forward, his eyes glinting. "Have to go home early?" His eyes seemed to laugh as he spoke, full of different lights and shadows that caught my gaze, mesmerising me.

It took me a second before I could speak.

"Nope" I told him. "Nothing at all." Because I am twenty-one years old, and not a child, Merrill, I added silently.  
>"Really?" Merrill raised an eyebrow.<p>

"Really. She just wondered how everyone is and stuff." Stuff-a word I was using a lot at the moment.

"Oh." Brilliant, Merrill. Brilliant vocabulary there.

Still..

"Has Caroline gone yet?" I asked bluntly, wanting to change the subject. "Or does she need to ask us anything else?" No offence to Caroline, but I really hoped it was the former. I didn't feel like answering any more questions about how dark it had been the previous night, if it was all the same to her.

"Graham's just seeing her off" Merrill told me. "They're out on the porch." He lowered his gaze, biting his lip slightly.

"Right." _Brilliant, Isabelle. How eloquent. Merrill will surely fall over himself to ask you out. _Had my brain taken a day off or something? Not that I minded, but I'd have liked some notice.

"So..." Merrill shoved a hand in his pocket; he still seemed to be looking anywhere else but at me.

"So.." _Oh, well done, Einstein. _Seriously, what was wrong with me? This was just worrying. OK, I liked him. I really liked him. Why did that have to mean I was struck dumb in his presence?

We stood in silence for a moment. In the last five seconds, this had become the Most Awkward Conversation of All Time.

OK, I was sure there were more awkward ones, but seriously, this had to be in the top ten.

"You reckon this alien stuff's-" I stopped, unknowing how to finish the sentence. I mean, what was I meant to say? What did I think? That it was real? A hoax? A phenomenon of nature? Or none of them at all?

Because, to be honest, I had absolutely no freaking idea.

"Real?" Merrill finished my sentence for me. "Or fake?"

"Yeah" I answered, relieved. "Do you reckon-you know-it could be-"

Merrill was rolling his eyes before I even reached the end of my sentence. "Oh, for God's sake. It's a load of crap, Isabelle. Just some bunch of nerds somewhere creating their little hoax and trying to stir everything up. It'll blow over."

I wondered how some little bunch of nerds somewhere could make worldwide news overnight.

"I guess" I muttered. I found it pretty difficult to believe, though. I looked at Merrill. "That's what you think, then?"

God, what a stupid question.

Merrill frowned. "Duh. It's the truth. What other option is there? Little green men with cone shaped heads came down from space to make random signs in people's cornfields, huh?" He smirked at me, rolling his eyes. But I couldn't help noticing there was a slight furrow in his brow, and for someone so certain that this alien stuff was a bunch of crock, he'd listened pretty avidly to the rest of the news reports that morning.

"What's happening today, then?" I asked mindlessly, vaguely wondering about visiting the shops. I could have a look about the book store...it had been a while since I'd stocked up on my reading material..

Merrill shrugged. "Why? You going somewhere?"

I shook my head. "Nope. Just wondered."  
>Merrill's eyes remained on my face and his lip curled up slightly in a crooked smile. "Oh." He took another step forward, so we were standing with only a few inches between us. "Thought you might be going out somewhere."<p>

I knew exactly what game he was playing; it was a trick I'd seen a million times in high school and college. Where are you going, who are you going with...you going with your boyfriend/girlfriend ...do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend? A technique that, as a rule, never failed.

And apparently I was no exception to that rule.

"Nope" I smiled back. Without realising it, I had stepped an inch closer to him. "What about you?"

"Nope." I knew what he was about to ask and I decided to turn the question on its' head.

"Oh." I cast my gaze down, fiddling with my hair-fiddling with my _hair-_God, of all the obvious tricks in the book. "Aren't you-I don't know, doing something with a friend?" I glanced back up at him.

Merrill was openly grinning now. "Nope. Not today."

I stepped closer. "Girlfriend?"  
>Merrill's smile broadened.<p>

"Isabelle?"

I spun round.

Bo was standing at the door, her eyes wide. I stared at her, wondering what she'd seen, what she'd heard...

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to meet her gaze. "Yeah, Bo? What's up?"

Bo stared from one of us to the other. "Daddy's saying bye-bye to Caroline" she said quietly, her eyes not leaving our faces.

"Since when do _you_ call her Caroline?" Merrill muttered. Bo ignored him.

"What's going to happen?" she asked me, calmly and quietly, without giving me the slightest clue as to what she meant.  
>"What do you mean?" I frowned. "You worrying about this crop circle stuff?" I hoped that wasn't it-I mean, OK, I was worrying about it but Bo didn't need to. She was a kid. Anyway, chances were, Merrill was probably right-it was probably some giant hoax. Some fools were probably sitting around a tiny little computer design in some little box room somewhere right now, laughing at the mess they'd created for everyone else. Probably the one bit of joy they'd get in their lives.<p>

I took a moment to smile at the image, before remembering I had a possibly terrified child in front of me and pulling myself together, in time to see Bo nod once.

"Baby, you don't need to be scared." I placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's not real, sweetheart. It's just some idiots messing around. You don't need to worry. Those marks in the fields, they were made by people, not aliens." Vaguely, I noted that the idea of strangers creeping about in your backyard vandalising your cornfields wasn't exactly the most comforting idea either, but what the hell. If it cheered Bo up, I was all for it.

"Are you sure?" I had to laugh at the seriousness of the question. Bo sometimes seemed to be the oldest four-year-old in the world.

"I'm sure." I glanced at Merrill, willing him to provide some support. I mean, all I was trying to do was prevent his-and my-niece from being traumatised. Not that much to ask.

Merrill correctly interpreted my glance. "Bo, nothing's going to happen. It's like Isabelle said-it's just some kids messing about. They'll get caught. Nothing to worry about." I stared at him. Was it just me or did he not look quite as casual and convinced as his tone suggested?

However, it seemed to do the trick. Bo nodded, raising her eyes to my face. I smiled, gazing back at the little girl, noting the unusual solemnity of the blue eyes that gazed back into mine.

"Is your ankle okay now?" she asked, sticking her thumb in her mouth. I smiled, remembering how Colleen had told me many a time about how long she had taken to give up her thumb-sucking habit as a four-year-old. Obviously, Bo had inherited the trait.

Then, in a moment of brilliance, I remembered that Bo had just asked me a question and that she needed an answer.  
>God, I was slow this morning. Was this just because I was tired? Or did it have something to do with the fact that Merrill had moved to stand beside me, and was now so close to my side, I could almost feel his body heat?<p>

If it was the latter-and I had to suspect it was-then lov-_liking_ someone should come with a government health warning. It made you loopy. How the hell could anyone drive, navigate or even _walk _in a straight line when they felt like this?  
>Then I remembered-<em>again<em>-that Bo had asked me a question. _God, _I needed to pull myself together this morning.

"My ankle? Oh-yeah it's fine" I belatedly replied, with one of the truly stupidest remarks I'd heard all day. What was I thinking?

It was the truth, though-my ankle was fine. I guessed an overnight rest had been all it needed.

"That's why Uncle Merrill was helping you last night." If I didn't know better, a sly undertone had crept into Bo's voice there, and her lips were curved upwards in a small smile. I stared at her. God, was I that obvious? So pathetically transparent that even a four-year-old could see through me?

Well, that was a nuisance. Bang went all those plans for being the female James Bond I'd been thinking over.

Seriously, though. I needed to hide my feelings a bit more carefully, if my four-year-old niece could correctly deduce who I found attractive.

I forced myself to meet Bo's eyes for the second time that morning. "Yep. He was helping me. And now my ankle's better. So...I guess he doesn't need to help me-" _Oh, well done. Oh, well done, Isabelle. That was absolute brilliance. If that does not win first prize as the Most Idiotic Sentence Ever to be Uttered by a Human Being, I don't know what does. The only way the stupidity of that comment could be increased was if.._ I couldn't even think of a way my comment could have been worse. Perfect.

To hide my embarrassment, I pulled Bo closer, wrapped my arms around her and buried my face in her hair. I closed my eyes and prayed harder than I'd ever prayed in my life for a thunderbolt to strike and put me out of my misery.

"Why are you laughing, Uncle Merrill?"

I looked up at Bo's voice before realising that since my name wasn't Merrill, the comment was unlikely to be aimed at me. I glanced over my shoulder to see Merrill smirking, clearly fighting back silent laughter. I had no doubt as to what-or rather, who-had triggered it.

"What?" I straightened up, my hand falling absent-mindedly onto Bo's head, where it remained, occasionally stroking her hair, in a rather useless gesture bizarrely reminiscent of petting an unruly dog.

There was something wrong with me today, there had to be.

Merrill shook his head, still sniggering with silent laughter. I tried to summon up a glare, but to be honest, it was pretty difficult. He looked kind of cute when he was laughing. It was endearing, I guessed...

"What?" I tried to force some form of sternness into my voice, some kind of audible command. My inquiry sounded about as stern and commanding as an absurdly happy chipmunk. My lips twitched as I fought back a giggle. Oh God, _giggling_.. what was I turning into?

"Isabelle?" I turned my attention to my niece.

Bo was staring at me solemnly, eyes wide, lip pushed out in perplexity. "Why is Uncle Merrill laughing at nothing?"  
>I struggled not to burst out laughing myself at Bo's completely matter-of-fact question.<p>

"He's laughing..." I tried to come up with a viable reason why Merrill would be laughing and failed. "He's laughing.." I tried again. Nada.

"Because he's an idiot" I told her eventually, starting to laugh myself. "Like most men."

Merrill laughed harder.

Bo stared at me, looking more and more confused by the minute. "Is my daddy an id-idiot?"

I laughed harder. Something about Bo's complete matter-of-factness made the whole situation seem ten times funnier. "No, Bo. Your daddy's not an idiot." I laughed again. "Your daddy breaks the rule. He's the exception."

"Exception to what? " I looked up to find Graham standing in the doorway. He smiled-a confused smile, but a smile. It had been a while since I'd seen Graham smile like that. Not since before...

Bo turned in my arms, perhaps sensing my sudden change of mood. "Ex-eption to being stupid" she told him.

"What?" Graham stared at us, his brow furrowing even as his lips broadened in a wide smile. I stared at him. It had been so long since I'd seen Graham smile widely, genuinely, without any shade of bitterness or grief. And it only lasted a second, but it was worth that second. It was like a cloud parting, and the sunlight penetrating the shadows-even if it only lasted a moment, it was worth seeing.

"Well, Isabelle said men were id-id-ots" Bo frowned in her attempt to get the word right. "And that you were an exc-emption."

Graham burst out laughing. Bo wriggled out of my arms, running to her father. He caught hold of her, pulling her into a hug. "Where's your brother?"

I stared at them, savouring the moment. It was rare to see them like that these days-so happy and off guard. It was rare to see any of us like that.

Bo struggled slightly. "Basement."

"Caroline gone?" asked Merrill.

Graham glanced up and just like that, I saw the smile slip from his face, as he remembered Caroline's visit. And the reason behind it in the first place.

He took a breath. "Yes." He smiled again, but it was different from his earlier one-more forced, less natural. I sighed, realising that moment of happiness was gone, and I had no way of knowing how long it would be before another made its' appearance.

"Morgan!" I jumped at the sound of Graham's voice, raised in a shout. He turned back to us. "Get your coats."

I frowned. "How come?"

Graham looked directly at me. "We're going into town."

Sitting in the car twenty minutes later, I reflected on the indignity that was being stuffed into the backseat between two children.

Merrill had offered me the front seat, but I'd refused. It was petty, it was stupid, but I wasn't one of those girls who fainted at every knight-in-shining armour gesture. I didn't want to appear too keen.

Plus-pathetically-I'd noticed that sitting in the backseat, I had a really nice view of the back of Merrill's head. And I kind of liked that.

God, I needed to pull myself together.

So now here I was sitting in the back of the car, daydreaming as we drove. And not just about Merrill.

OK, Merrill didn't seem to be worrying about the idea of aliens too much, but I couldn't get it out of my head. Yeah, I knew this was probably a hoax. Yeah, I knew it would probably all blow over by this time tomorrow. Yeah, I knew the truth was probably as pathetic and unglamorous as a group of twenty-year-old nerds performing a clever geometry trick with boards and planks.

But there was still a part of my brain that wondered-desperately-at the possibility that aliens could exist. The possibility that this could be happening.. that this could be a sign from space..

"Uncle Merrill, could you turn on the radio?" I blinked as Morgan's voice interrupted my thoughts. Bo's arm yanked back from where it stretched forward, apparently a second away from poking her brother's cheek.

I didn't blame him for wanting some form of interaction with the media; before we'd left the house, Graham had informed us all the TV was staying off for the rest of the day. "Just for a while" he told us. "We could all do without it." Yeah, as if we were all completely stupid and couldn't work out Graham's sudden desire for isolation from media materials. As if we couldn't work out he didn't want anyone thinking about crop circles and aliens more than they should.

Merrill reached forward, hitting the button. Immediately, a newscaster's voice filled the car.

"There are signs intended to be seen from the sky..."

So much for getting away from the crop circle business.

Graham leaned forward and shut off the radio again. We'd got three seconds of media access. Well, that was something.

"No radio either" he said, addressing his son. "Just for a while."

Morgan's sigh matched my own. I slid back in my seat. Merrill frowned at his brother but said nothing. To tell you the truth, I didn't see what good would come from not letting the kids listen to the news and whatnot. At least then we'd know what was going on.  
>But apparently, it was better for us to live in a bubble and I was too tired to protest. I leaned back in my seat and let my gaze and thoughts wander out the window to the sky overhead.<p>

Pulling up in front of the store twenty minutes later, I suddenly realised I had no idea what to do with myself for the next hour or so. I'd originally thought of buying some books, but somehow the attraction had faded from that venture.

Apparently, Morgan still liked the idea. "Book money?" he asked his father, his hand already held out in expectation. I sniggered at the mildly exasperated look on Graham's face at his son's immediate request.

"Just the one" he sighed, handing Morgan several dollar bills. Morgan took them with a quick nod of thanks and without another word to anyone, headed off down the sidewalk, Bo running to catch up, apparently by unspoken agreement.

I looked around, wondering what everyone else was doing. Merrill was already walking fast, purposefully, in the opposite direction. I stared after him, hard.

Suddenly, I became aware of the uncomfortable sense that I was being observed and looked up to find Graham standing still, watching me.

Or, to be more accurate, watching me watch Merrill.

I let my gaze drop instantly, trying to ignore the heat already creeping up my cheeks. I turned, trying to meet Graham's gaze without giving myself away.

Graham raised an eyebrow but said nothing about the matter. Instead, he merely turned and yelled after his brother. "Be back for pizza in fifteen!"

Merrill raised a hand in quick acknowledgement of the request. Graham turned to me. "So, what are you thinking of doing with yourself today, Isabelle?"

I shrugged. "I was thinking of picking up some books." I muttered, unable to think of anything else to do with my time. "I need some new reading material." Graham grinned-knowing me since I was nine, he was aware of my love for reading. As a child, it was my escape-it took me to a different world, one away from stupid obsessions and anxious parents, one that sheltered me from school and work and worries. Nowadays, it was still a refuge, a temporary oasis from the rest of the world.

"You'll bump into Morgan and Bo, then,"he laughed. Morgan loved reading-had done as long as I could remember. Bo was still little, but had a pretty extensive knowledge of bedtime fairytales at least.

I smiled. "Where are you going?" I was actually kind of curious to see what Graham did with his days. He was my brother-in-law, but he'd always been more like an uncle, someone older than me, an authority figure. I was close to him, I guessed, but I wasn't really sure what he did with his time. Apart from be a priest-up until six months ago, anyway.

"Need to pick up an asthma medicine for Morgan" he told me. "Going the chemist."

"Say hi to Tracey for me" I told him, with little enthusiasm. Tracey Abernathy had been in my grade at school. She'd been one of those popular kids, one of those girls who's always giggling, always surrounded by a group, always swooning over the latest pop star. Not someone I was particularly well-acquainted with.

She also happened to be one of the least intelligent people I'd ever come across-while she was at school, anyway. She'd improved slightly in recent years. I saw her whenever I went to the chemist, and she was better than I remembered. Plus, she talked to me now without looking at me like I was a piece of dirt on her shoe.

I guess you could say I still bore a mild grudge.

"I guess I'll.." I gestured lamely toward the bookshop. Graham nodded, already turning away. I bit my lip, trying to suppress the question I desperately wanted to ask.

It slipped out, anyway.

"Where do you think your brother's going?" I blurted out, then closed my eyes in agony as I realised how hilariously awkward the question sounded.

Graham turned back, and I couldn't help but notice a slight smile on his lips. "I'm not sure, Isabelle. He didn't say." He was grinning now, and I winced as I pictured the expression that must have appeared on my face. Please say I didn't look as hopelessly eager as I imagined...please...

Graham turned away again. "You'll be seeing him in fifteen minutes" he called back over his shoulder. "You don't have to wait that long."

I winced in embarrassment. Terrible. Why the hell did everyone seem able to tell I liked Merrill? Why? It was beyond humiliating.

Oh God, please say they didn't mention it to him...please say they didn't mention it to him...

It was then I realised I was standing alone on the sidewalk.  
>Shaking my head, I turned towards the bookshop. I needed to get a hold on myself.<p>

In more ways than one..

_Did you step on that crack? _

I closed my eyes, willing the thought away. I did not need to avoid stepping on cracks in the sidewalk, like a child. It made no sense..

_Are you sure?_

I forced myself forward, trying to ignore the nagging impulse in my mind, to avoid giving in to it.

_It's going to be your fault.._

Shut up...shut up...

_It'll be your fault if something bad happens.._ Images played through my mind, grabbing my attention, forcing me to stop.

I buried my face in my hands.

Yeah, I knew they were only thoughts. I knew they weren't real. I knew they were created by my mind. I knew all that.

That didn't make them any less frightening. Or help me fight them. Or make them any less significant to me.

I'd had this almost as long as I could remember, and it wasn't going to stop.

Taking a deep breath, I walked forward to the bookshop door-taking care to avoid every sidewalk crack.

Opening the door, I spotted Morgan and Bo leaning against the counter. Carl, the old bookshop owner and Deborah, his wife, were sitting and standing respectively behind the counter, their attention focused on a small television.

"..twelve soda commercials so far" Carl was saying. "Twelve!"

None the wiser as to the topic of discussion, I walked forward in time to hear Morgan say quietly "Do you have any books on extraterrestrials?"

I rolled my eyes. So much for getting aliens out of our minds.

Carl turned slightly in his seat and I got a clear view of the television screen. Displayed clearly for all to see was an image of...can you guess?

Yep, crop circles.

And the caption underneath said "Wakefield, England."

I stared at the screen, chewing my lip. It was spreading...

"Don't tell me you believe this horse manure?"

I looked up sharply before realising this charming remark wasn't addressed to me, but Morgan. But what the hell, I wasn't letting it go unchallenged.

"Excuse me?"

Carl met my eyes. "'Hey, Isabelle" he said. "I was talking to him." He pointed at Morgan.

"Him has a name" I told him. "And what does it matter if he believes this stuff or not?"

Carl shifted slightly. One of the most pragmatic men I knew, the paranormal was not a topic he cared to discuss. Still wasn't an excuse for treating a ten-year-old boy like an idiot, though.

"Aw, come on, Isabelle! It's a con! I've got it all worked out!"

I sighed. For all his pragmatism, Carl was an endless conspiracy-theorist, coming up with endless plots and plans for us all to avoid. Last time we'd been in here, he'd informed us very earnestly that he had worked out that 9/11 was a serious conspiracy plot by the US government to increase airplane security. I couldn't wait to hear what he'd come up with for the crop circle fiasco.

"See, they're trying to sell sodas" Carl informed us. "I was just telling these two. I have been watching these reports since six this morning. And I have seen twelve soda commercials so far. I-"  
>"Carl, do you have any books on extra-terrestrials? Morgan just asked you." Yeah, it was snarky, but to be honest, I think I had the right to be. The day wasn't exactly going brilliantly so far.<p>

Carl's wife turned to us. "As a matter of fact, I think we have one."

What were the odds? One book in the whole store. Weird.

"Came by mistake in a shipment-we decided to keep it for the city people." She turned to Morgan, smiling. "Last row, third book on the left, honey." God knows how she had an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of the book locations-I couldn't have done it.

Carl turned, grumbling, back to the television, and Morgan and Bo headed towards the back of the shop. I was following them with some vague idea of making sure the book didn't fill their heads with too many "alien" ideas, when I spotted something that made me slow to a stop.

It was a small book. A children's book. Just a story, a little story, a bedtime read. Just something made up for little kids who didn't know better. Kids younger than Bo.

Colleen had owned one. She'd had it since she was born and read it to me numerous times. It became my favourite story; something I clamoured for whenever I couldn't sleep, something to calm me whenever my fear grew so strong I was wriggling in my seat.

Colleen's copy was special, for another reason. It was signed by the author, a famous author, a rare signature. The only way it was ever considered acceptable at my school to be seen reading one of those books-for babies, really-was if it was signed. Some had fetched millions on Ebay.

That book had disappeared when I was eleven and Colleen twenty-eight. I could remember the day vividly.

"_Colleen!" I run down the stairs, tapping each post of the banister twice, because otherwise I could trip and break my neck. "I can't find your book!"  
>Colleen, home for a visit, three months pregnant, turns to stare at me. "Are you sure?" She doesn't need to ask which one. She knows. We all do.<em>

"_Yeah. I looked everywhere." I sniff, swallow back tears. "Sorry." I am. She just doesn't know what for. "I did look."_

_Colleen sighs. Under normal circumstances, she would offer to help. But just last week, she was told at her appointment to be careful with the baby. And she doesn't dare jolt him at all._

"_Isabelle, how did you lose it?" _

"_I don't know! I took it to school today."_

"_Oh, Isabelle..."_

"_It wasn't in my bag when I got home." A tear slides down my cheek at the look on Colleen's face. "Are you mad?"_

_Colleen stares at me for a long moment. Then she sighs. "No, Isabelle. I'm not mad." Slowly, without another word, she turns towards the family room. Graham, hovering protectively behind her, follows with a regretful glance at me. I sniff and slide back onto a stair, where I huddle, alone and hurt. I'm just glad Colleen doesn't know what really happened._

_Time goes by and Colleen forgets to be sad-there's so much else to do-but every time I look at the shelves in my bedroom, I get a guilty feeling in my stomach. And sometimes, I wish I'd told her the truth._

I shook my head. There was no point in dwelling on it now. It wouldn't change things, after all.

And so I moved on, trying to ignore the slightly guilty shiver in my stomach.

When I reached them, Morgan and Bo were kneeling over a heavy book, which dipped in Morgan's hands as he turned the pages. God knows how they found it so quickly.

"Listen to this" Morgan told his sister, moving a protective arm around her shoulder. "Interest in extraterrestrials and their species has been prevalent for centuries, piquing in recent years.."

I listened, marvelling at his reading, not even hesitating with scientific terms or difficult vocabulary. He's smart, Morgan; straight-As in most subjects. And no wonder, the amount he reads.

Morgan turned as my shadow fell across the pages. He flinched slightly, as though expecting some kind of reprimand.

"Hey" I told him pointlessly, wondering what he had to look so freaked out about. It was only me, after all.

Morgan's expression cleared. "Hey, Isabelle." He looked up at me, as though trying to decide whether or not to let me in on something. Apparently, he decided I was trustworthy. "Look at this."

I squatted down on the floor, peering over his shoulder. Morgan moved aside to give me a clear view.

A clear block of text lay on the page, surrounded by different photographs, sketches and the like, detailing the possibility of life beyond this earth. I sighed. Graham would _really_ love this.

If he had to know..

I guess I knew I wouldn't tell him. After all, what harm would a book do? This would all blow over in a few days. The kids were just interested. At least, that's what I told myself to assuage my conscience.

I waited for a few moments, in which the kids did nothing more riveting than turn a few pages. After a while, my mind started drifting.

"Listen" I said, turning Morgan's face towards me. The last thing I needed was him pretending to listen to me, while actually reading the stupid book. Of course, I did that all the time myself, so technically I was being a total hypocrite but still.

"I'm just going to pop out for a few minutes, OK?" I told them both. "I'll be back soon. Then we'll go and meet your dad for pizza." I smiled at them. Bo blinked and Morgan looked sceptical.

"You going to find Uncle Merrill?"  
>Damn. How the hell had Morgan figured that out?<p>

I turned back to him, arranging my face into what I hoped was a nonchalant expression. "Might be" I said, trying to sound as laid-back, cool and relaxed as possible. I sounded about as laid-back as a very startled squirrel. "If I run into him."

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "How will you run into him unless you go looking for him?" Bo, sitting next to her brother, nodded with him in solidarity.

Brilliant. I was being cross-examined by a precociously intelligent ten-year-old, and his knowing four-year-old sister. This was just perfect.

However, I didn't let this faze me. Instead, I came up with a truly stunning answer.

"I dunno.." In my defence, it was accompanied by half a shrug, and a hopeless expression.

OK, it was a pretty pathetic reply. And by the look on his face, Morgan agreed.

However-to my relief-he didn't interrogate me further.

"OK..." he said softly before turning back to his book-a much more absorbing object than my musings about his uncle, after all. I stood for a moment, watching them, then, satisfying myself they'd be all right for a moment or two, headed for the door.

I glanced back to see Bo leaning over Morgan's shoulder, nodding as he pointed at something on the page. I smiled. Yep, they'd definitely be all right.

Outside, I looked around, trying to distract myself from the slightly pathetic reason I'd left the shop-the reason Morgan had hit on almost straight away. I wanted to find Merrill.

I cringed even as I thought the words.

Still, I liked him. A lot. And I might be imagining it, but I'd got the strange impression that he might have been _mildly_ flirting with me this morning..

I set off down the street. Unfortunately for me, I had no idea where Merrill was, so I decided I'd just have to peer into every shop I passed, looking for him.

It was only then I realised how distinctly like stalking this behaviour sounded.

Obsession, losing my train of thought, now following him. The slippery slope. Perfect.

Still, there was no other way to find him.

It was only when I'd passed about three shops, without sighting him in any of them, that I realised how bizarre I was going to sound when I did catch up to him. "Hey, Merrill...yeah, just saw you in here...yeah, I did this cool thing, where I just walked up the street, looking in random windows for any sight of you, until I spotted you in here. So, how are things?"

If I was lucky, I'd be humiliated. If I was unlucky, I'd end up wearing a straight-jacket and spending the rest of my life in a padded cell.

What a dilemma.

However, I didn't have much chance to think it over. I'd reached the army recruitment office, and as I paused to catch my breath (I _really_ needed to get more exercise), I noticed Merrill through the window.

OK, I suspect I wouldn't have noticed Merrill so quickly if I hadn't been actually looking for him.

But still, I wasn't a total stalker. Yet.

I walked into the shop without thinking twice, which I realised about a second later was a huge mistake because when I marched in, flinging the door open, and Merrill turned to look at me, I had absolutely no idea what to say.

Which was made even worse by the fact that sitting at the desk near the door, was someone I was not too happy to see.  
>"Lionel Pritchard" I muttered, as though he didn't know his name. Then again, given his estimated brain cell count, that was a distinct possibility.<p>

Lionel Pritchard, of the greasy head and fake tough-guy jacket, turned to look at me. Or rather, leer. "Hey, it's Chipmunk!" Yes, his childhood nickname for me had lasted over fifteen years. What a record.

Merrill frowned. "Chipmunk?" However, he sighed upon recognising the speaker, who he apparently hadn't noticed before. "Hello, Lionel."

I flushed. Yeah, I was not the only kid to get regularly mocked by Braindead here. Didn't mean I wanted Merrill seeing it.

Unfortunately, since not many of my wishes seemed to be granted today, Merrill was witnessing my humiliation at the hands of a guy who, to be quite honest, could be beaten in a general knowledge quiz by a mildly intelligent racoon. And there was nothing I could do about it.

Except give as good as I got. Or better, in this case. "Lionel, do those two brain cells of yours ever get lonely rattling around in your brain together?" I said pointedly. While Lionel tried to figure out what I'd said, I turned to Merrill. "Hey." I remembered there was absolutely nothing I could say. "I was-um-looking for you-the kids-"

"You didn't used to play baseball, did you?"

We all turned at the unfamiliar voice, and I found myself staring at a guy in an army uniform who, quite irrationally, made my skin crawl. Maybe it was the way he was staring at us-as though he was a large rat and we were nice big pieces of cheese-or maybe it was just me being paranoid. Either way, I looked anywhere in the room but at the desk behind which Army Guy sat. I knew it was stupid but that was how I felt.

Merrill did not seem as intimidated, however. Instead, slowly, he nodded his head. Lionel Pritchard, I noticed had stiffened and a strangely sour look had crept over his features. I smirked, in what was actually a childish sense of victory. Still, it was Lionel Pritchard. Jesus Himself would be reduced to behaving like a six-year-old around him, I reckoned.

The army guy gasped, and I whirled round, expecting to see a parade of marching pink elephants or something. Unfortunately, it was nothing that exciting.

"Shit, I know you! You're Merrill Hess!"

Oh. I guessed Merrill _was_ quite well-known after all.

Merrill ducked his head, a slight flush rising to his cheekbones. I looked away, trying not to show how endearing I found Merrill's mild embarrassment. Unfortunately, there was no-one else to look at but Lionel and I didn't particularly feel like making myself sick, so I stared at the walls. I pretended to be mildly interested in the many army posters and pamphlets.

Suddenly, I found myself wondering why Merrill would have any kind of interest in the army.

"I was there the day you hit that five hundred and eighty-seven footer over the left-field wall."

Goo-goo-gaga. It made about as much sense to me. I was hardly up on baseball terminology.

"Set the record.."

Oh. _That_ I could understand.

"It's still the record, right?"

I, too, looked to Merrill for the answer. I might not know much about baseball but even I could tell he'd done something impressive.

Merrill nodded once, his blush increasing. "Got the bat at home..up on the wall."

Had he? How had I missed-

But Army Guy was already speaking again. "You've got two minor league home records, don't you?"

Putting aside the terrible grammar, that sentence was actually pretty impressive in its' content.

Merrill nodded, smiling broadly now. I stared at him. "Five."

I just about fell over. I could barely catch a ball from two feet away. To me, any kind of record in baseball-even if I didn't have a clue what it meant-was extraordinary.

Army Guy seemed to agree with me. Maybe I'd judged him too hastily. "Why weren't you in the pros?" he demanded, leaning back in his chair. "Making stacks of cash? And getting your toes licked by beautiful women?"

I sniggered, maturely.

However, the smile faded from Merrill's face. He sighed and glanced down.

Perhaps he wouldn't have spoken if it hadn't been for the next voice we heard. I'd been hoping Lionel Pritchard might have lost his voice or evaporated or something in the minutes since he'd last spoken. No such luck.

"Because he has another record most people don't know about" Lionel sneered, slumping back in his chair. Merrill stiffened suddenly, turning to look at the moron behind us. I glared at Lionel. I could have greased a chip pan with that head.  
>Lionel seemed to sense my disapproval. "Do you know about it, Chipmunk?" he sneered again. I flinched, before rearranging my features into something which I hoped suggested contempt and indifference.<br>Merrill suddenly swung round so he was facing Lionel head-on. "Do you want to stop calling her that?" His voice was calm-deadly calm. I froze, wondering what to tell Graham if he came out of the chemists to find his younger brother being shepherded off by the cops-probably including Caroline-for fighting in public.

Lionel sneered again. I guessed it took too much thought to change his facial expression. "Not particularly" he said, in answer to Merrill's-rhetorical-question. I frowned. Surprising Lionel knew what particularly meant.

Lionel turned to me. "Want to know?" he asked. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. I think it was an attempt at looking macho. He actually just looked rather pathetic. Specially given his chewing gum nearly fell out of his mouth as he spoke.

Still, I was ignoring him so I refrained-with difficulty-from any comment. Instead, I turned to Merrill. Maybe Lionel would disappear if I just didn't pay him attention. "What were you-"

"He's got the minor league strikeout record." Lionel announced, with the kind of smirk you see on one fat snake who thinks its' found a rather stupid rat for its tea. I hadn't thought it possible for my dislike of Pritchard to increase up until today. Never say never.

I was no baseball fan-unsurprisingly-but I knew what a strikeout was. Or I thought I did. "Isn't that when you don't hit it the first time-" I asked Merrill, before seeing the look on his face and quickly closing my mouth. Even I recognised it wasn't the right moment for terminology questions.  
>Lionel sneered again. That expression was getting old. "Yeah, it's where you don't hit first time" he told me. "Where you don't hit any time, huh, Merrill?"<p>

I glared at Lionel but-infuriatingly-could not think of any brilliant response. Damn.

My-silent-indignation seemed to stoke Lionel's victory even more. "Yep, Merrill's a class-A screw up" he smirked.

OK, he was not getting away with that.

"Yeah, Lionel, because you, on the other hand, are right at the top of the table" I told him. "Yeah, you do what for a living exactly? Turn up to work in your dad's garage occasionally, and spend the rest of your time sitting on the streets, from the look of you?"

Lionel did not seem overly offended by my words. "We can't all be swots, Chipmunk" he smirked. "And what's it to you?"

"You being stupid is what it is to me." I snarled, before realising my reply made virtually no sense whatsoever. I looked him up and down. "What's your problem, anyway? I mean, I know, I know, you're bitter because-"

Lionel sniggered. "Chipmunk, if you think I'm jealous of you, you've got another think coming" he told me. "Just trying to show you your boyfriend here's not the top athlete you think he is."

"He's not my boyfriend" I said. With a mild twinge of regret. I stamped on it hard.

Lionel snorted. "'Course he isn't. Why'd he want to be? How many people did you bag in high school-"

His chair fell backwards, and he slid out of it. Merrill had stormed over, grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved hard.

I'm actually pretty ashamed to admit this but my first thought on the matter was "This is so cool."

My second was "Is it really wrong if I'm standing here longing for them to engage in a physical fight just so I can see Lionel Pritchard finally get the crap beaten out of him?"

However, by my third thought, sanity had returned.

"Merrill!" I sprang forward and-uselessly-grabbed his arm. As though that would have any real restraining effect whatsoever.

However, Merrill stepped back from Lionel almost immediately. It might have had something to do with the fact that Army Guy-who was obviously a lot sprier than he looked- had leapt out of his seat, grabbed hold of Merrill's shoulders and now seemed to be trying to force him into a headlock.

Merrill didn't seem to notice. Or care. "If you ever" he snarled at Lionel, who was lying on his back, temporarily stunned. "Talk to her-" he pointed at me. Any other time, I'd have pointed out that I had a name, but since Merrill was doing me a favour, it didn't seem tactful. "Like that again-"

"What?" Lionel sneered back. God, was there no end to his stupidity? Even he must have figured out he should shut up by this point.

Merrill snarled again. He tried to move, but Army Guy was pretty strong. Merrill could barely do more than wriggle. Kind of impressive, given that Army Guy barely came up to Merrill's shoulder.

"Please" I said desperately to Army Guy, who turned to look at me as though we were sitting in a coffee shop having a friendly conversation over cake. "Please don't call the police,-"

Army Guy shook his head. "Don't worry, love" he told me. Patronizing but under the circumstances, acceptable. "This is pretty tame compared to some idiots we've seen." Show-off, but he was still doing us a favour.  
>"Plus" he added. "I don't reckon School Boy here-" he nodded at Lionel, who had never looked less like a schoolboy. "Would want the police involved."<p>

With that, he turned his attention to Merrill. "You going to calm down now?"

Lionel, getting to his feet, snarled. "Don't worry, Hess. I wouldn't go near your girlfriend if you paid me." Amazingly, he didn't leave the shop. Instead, he just pulled round his chair, sat down and continued scribbling on whatever he was using. As though nothing had happened at all.

Then again, this was Lionel Pritchard. People I knew wanted to beat him up all the time. He was probably used to it.

A smaller part of my mind noted that Merrill hadn't objected to Lionel calling me his girlfriend. That made me far more hopeful than it should.  
>Lionel turned in his seat. "Anyway, if you're interested, yeah. He's got the strikeout record. Didn't matter what the coaches said, didn't matter who was on base, he'd just whup that bat through the air hard as he could every time. Looked like a lumberjack chopping down a tree." He sniggered at his own-useless-analogy.<p>

Army Guy released Merrill with a cautious glance as though waiting for a wild animal to spring. Merrill, however, seemed to have calmed down. Only his fast breathing and flashing eyes told me anything had happened at all. He turned to me. "Want to go?" He gestured to the door and I noticed him slip a small piece of paper into his pocket. It looked like a pamphlet.

"Merrill here has more strikeouts than any two players" Lionel suddenly announced, for no apparent reason. I was just startled he could understand basic math.

Army Guy, who had been heading back to his small desk, turned slowly to stare at Merrill. "You really got the strikeout record?"

How tactful. Not that I could really talk about tact, but...

Merrill sighed, already turning away, heading for the door. He lowered his head as he walked. For a moment, I thought I'd imagined his quiet reply.

"Felt wrong not to swing."

Tucking the pamphlet in his pocket, he gestured me towards the door. I shot Lionel one last glare.

Lionel sniggered. Again. "See you, Chipmunk." I didn't deign to reply.

"Good luck with your boyfriend" he called after me. I prayed for someone to cut his throat for him. "Wouldn't have thought he was your type."

Not even dwelling on what that remark meant, I pushed open the door, stepping out into the sunlight. I turned, waiting for Merrill.

Merrill walked slowly towards me. I was just wondering why he was going so slowly when he stopped behind Lionel. I waited, flinching. _Please don't start it again...I don't think Caroline will be thrilled to have to deal with us three times in two days..._

Suddenly, Merrill's hand flew out. Lionel flinched and I closed my eyes, envisioning fighting and blood and scores of cop cars turning up to arrest us all...

But nothing happened. I opened my eyes to see Merrill standing perfectly still and Lionel sitting hunched over the table, scowling. What the hell had happened?

Without another word, Merrill walked towards me. "Come on, let's go."

We headed out of the office without looking back. I, for one, was fuming.

I waited until the door closed behind us to yell.

"WHAT THE HECK-"

"_Ouch!"_

Hell.

I'd been a little distracted as I'd begun my rant on the idiocy of Lionel Pritchard. Unfortunately, that meant I hadn't been looking where I was going.

And even more unfortunately, that meant I'd just bumped into something.

And even more unfortunately, that something happened to be a little limping old woman, with a very thin walking stick and her old grizzling grey dog. Which was now lying on the sidewalk, not moving.

Oops.

(Did I mention it was unfortunate?)

"Sorry! I didn't mean-"

"She didn't mean to" cut in Merrill. "She really didn't." His sympathetic reassurances were slightly hampered by the fact that he was doubled over laughing. But still, it's the thought that counts.

The woman shook her stick at me. Apparently, she wasn't nearly as weak as she looked.

"Didn't mean to? I don't think so! If you-"

She lectured us for ten minutes. She seemed a bit blind, to be honest-she kept referring to us as "you young people", which got a bit annoying after a while. I mean, technically she was correct, but we weren't teenagers for God's sake.

"Yeah, OK, we're sorry" Merrill suddenly butted in. "Isabelle, we've got to go, Morgan and Bo will be-"

I nodded.

The woman looked at us severely. Her dog-now revived-was standing upright again, and frowning. As much as a dog can frown.

"I'll have to take him to the vet to make sure there's no permanent damage-"

I froze. The vet.

There was only one vet I knew of nearby. And he was not someone I wanted to see or be near.

"Yeah, let's go" I muttered to Merrill, already walking away. Any suppressed laughter had vanished and I now felt more like just going home and crawling into bed for the rest of the day. Or something.

Merrill hurried to catch up with me, leaving the complaining old woman behind us. "You OK?"

I nodded. "Yep. You?" It was only then I remembered the reason I'd bumped into the woman in the first place-I'd been distracted because of what had happened in the army office.

Merrill shrugged. "I'll live."  
>I stared at him, wondering how to broach the topic of Lionel's insults. If I didn't, it could end up being one mighty uncomfortable afternoon.<p>

"I went to school with him" I started nervously. Brilliant, Isabelle.

Merrill grunted slightly. Great start.

"Do you-know him well?" I asked, for lack of a better question. _Genius, Isabelle. Real genius._

"Met him a few times" Merrill muttered. Now, I couldn't be sure, but I was getting the impression he might want to change the subject. So I did him a favour and changed it for him.

"We've been gone way longer than fifteen minutes" I muttered, quickening my pace. "Graham won't be happy..."

However, when we reached the bookshop, we found Morgan and Bo standing quietly-Morgan holding a telltale bag under his arms that I would have bet half my life savings contained his alien book-and no Graham in sight.

"You were a while" Morgan told me somewhat accusingly. I blinked, remembering that I'd told him I'd be gone "for a few minutes."

Bo nodded. "You were gone way longer than a few minutes" she informed me solemnly.

I sighed. "Sorry. There were some-" Maybe best not to tell Morgan and Bo that their uncle had almost engaged someone in a physical fight on the way. Might not be the best example to set. "-complications" I finished, giving them one of the vaguest and most annoying explanations of all time. Still, what else could I say?  
>Bo nodded, but Morgan cast a sharp glance between Merrill and I. He didn't say anything but I thought I saw him smile slightly, a surprisingly knowing expression in his eyes for a ten-year-old.<p>

"Where's your dad?" Merrill asked, glancing up and down the street as though Graham might miraculously appear from nowhere. "He already gone to the pizza place?"  
>Morgan shook his head. "Haven't seen him."<p>

Merrill looked exasperated. "He told us to be back for fifteen minutes" he told me. "And we're ten minutes late."

I sighed. "Let's just wait for a bit. I'm sure he'll turn up."

Ten minutes later, however, I had to concede that either Graham was invisible or he just hadn't shown up and eventually we decided to go to the pizza parlour and wait there, a decision motivated by both hunger and boredom.

"He'll work out where we are" Merrill told us. "He'll probably know he's running late."

So, five minutes later, I found myself seated in the front window of a pizza restaurant between Bo and Merrill, with Morgan on his sister's other side and one conspicuously empty seat.

Morgan and Bo quickly lapsed into conversation about school, homework and mild arguments about whose turn it was to clean up their shared room ("I did it last time!" "You never take your turn cleaning!"), while Merrill and I listened, commented and, on occasion when an argument turned physical-i.e., Bo throwing a napkin across the table at her brother-refereed, i.e took the napkin away and gave Bo a warning about "learning to disagree."

At the same time, we passed the minutes with conversation between ourselves.  
>"You didn't answer my question earlier" I reminded Merrill, taking a sip from my chocolate milkshake. I chanced a quick glance at him to find him watching me quietly, his eyes strangely intent.<p>

"What question was that?" Merrill answered (with a question), while simultaneously lifting an arm to pull Morgan's straw from his hand, and place it back down into his vanilla milkshake.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I blurted the question out hurriedly, keeping my eyes on the table before I could lose my nerve. _Oh God, could you be more obvious...could this actually be more humiliating...what if he says..._

Merrill took a sip of his drink. Then he raised his eyes back to mine and I could see that familiar crooked smirk on his lips. "Nope."

I felt my lips widen in a grin that I ducked my head to hide, taking an extra-long sip of my milkshake to avoid having to come up with an answer immediately.

My response, when it came, was eloquent, to say the least.

"Oh."

Merrill laughed, but not unkindly. It was a gentle, teasing sound, a sound that seemed to have become familiar to me already. It was hard to believe I'd only known him twenty-four hours. It seemed like...

"Uncle Merrill, when will Dad get here?"  
>Merrill sighed. "I don't know, Morgan."<p>

"Well, what are we going to do about his pizza?" Morgan persisted. He frowned at his uncle, clearly intent on solving the dilemma of a possibly wasted pizza.

Merrill shrugged. "I don't know..we'll just leave it in his place and he can eat it when he gets here."

"But what if it goes cold?"

I fought back an urge to laugh at Morgan's matter-of-fact reasoning. Merrill rolled his eyes. "You can eat pizza cold, Morgan."

"Don't worry" I chipped in. "It'll be fine." God knows what I felt the need to reassure him for-it was hardly as though Graham had vanished into the abyss or something, he was just a bit late.

Then I remembered that was what everyone had thought the night Colleen died, too.

I almost knocked over my drink, eliciting another snigger from Merrill, as I reached across to pat Morgan's shoulder. Oh, well done, Isabelle. I was doing just brilliantly today. I slid back in my chair, torn with an odd mixture of feelings-another dull wave of missing my sister, and at the same time, the weirdest desire to laugh at what had just nearly happened.

Merrill saved me from thinking about the problem anymore. "You didn't answer mine either" he said enigmatically, taking another sip from his drink.  
>I blinked. "Your what?" I said stupidly. I mean, what the heck did I think he meant?<p>

"My question." Merrill didn't look away from me. His eyes stayed firmly on mine and there was a slight dimple in his cheek as his lip curled upwards in that same crooked smile. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

I felt strange, kind of entranced. I'd always associated that word with worry, fear, a loss of control-but it actually didn't feel that bad.

"Nope." I said. "I don't." I didn't look away. Neither did he.

At that moment, Bo caused a mild diversion in the shape of knocking her strawberry milkshake over the table, the stack of napkins and all over herself and Morgan. That was just about enough to drag my attention away.

The cries, yells and accusations lasted a while. Or, in pizza parlour time, about ten minutes.

"Bo, honey, don't cry" I was saying to her, as I sponged at her dress hastily, with a wad of napkins filched off a nearby empty table, already calculating how much scrubbing this would need to get clean. "I know you didn't mean to-"

Merrill was doing much the same thing with Morgan. "Morgan, she didn't mean to-we're cleaning you up, the stains don't show that much-"  
>"She knocked it all over my plate!"<br>"Just be glad your food wasn't here yet, then.."

We were still mopping frantically when the food arrived.

"Sir, your pizzas are here-"

"Yeah, I know, can you just-"  
>"Shall I just put them on the table, then-"<br>"Yeah, if you could , that would be-" Merrill tried to seize Morgan's arm to keep him still as he wiped down his jacket.

"OK, there you go-"

"Yeah, thanks." I couldn't really look at her-I was too busy holding a tearful Bo, burying her head in my shoulder, as I scrubbed at the back of her dress. I tried to make up for it by beaming the most grateful smile imaginable, and hoping the waitress would realise it was directed at her. I made a mental note to leave a large tip later.

Finally-after fussing, crying, hugging and consoling-we got down to eating our pizza, Bo with a fresh milkshake by her plate. There was an atmosphere of relative calm as we ate-pizza can have that effect on you.

However, by the time we were halfway through our meal, that atmosphere of relative calm had been replaced by an atmosphere of worry, bafflement and mild annoyance. Graham still hadn't turned up, and this wasn't like him.

"Maybe he's gone home" Morgan announced, biting into his third slice of pizza. "Maybe he got bored."

"That means he's taken the car" Bo announced, stating the obvious for us all.

"God, I hope not" I muttered to Merrill. "There's no way I'm walking back-I'd collapse before I got halfway."

As Merrill laughed, Morgan gave me a soft kick under the table. Usually, I'd have returned the favour with interest, but when I looked up in surprise, Morgan gestured towards the door. I turned to see Graham walking into the restaurant, a good half-hour late.

I nudged Merrill, who looked up as his brother reached our table. Graham was panting for breath-he'd obviously been running. He looked strange, slightly-stunned almost? I couldn't figure it out.

"Pharmacy crowded?" Merrill asked in surprise. I watched Graham carefully, who paid less attention to the pizza in front of him than he did to the pattern of the floor tiles.

Graham leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "I don't want any one of you spending time with Tracey Abernathy alone. OK?"

I stared.

Morgan and Bo both nodded, looking slightly confused but agreeable to this bizarre "request". Almost on autopilot, so did Merrill and I, as though we were token children.

Graham seemed satisfied though. "Right" I thought I heard him mutter. He turned away towards the window.

I frowned to myself. What was wrong with Tracey Abernathy? OK, she could be a bit dim, but it wasn't as though she was a serial killer or anyth-

Looking up, I noticed that Graham had gone very still. He was staring directly out the window.

And looking in the same direction, I saw why.

I didn't move. I didn't speak. I felt Merrill's eyes on me, but I didn't respond. He turned towards the object of our attention himself, his eyes widening in understanding.

It was a minute before any of us spoke. Morgan, sitting casually in his chair took a sip of his drink before noticing his uncle, his father and I all staring in silence, almost as though playing an unusual game of statues.

He wiped his mouth and turned to look out the window.

I sensed rather than saw him freeze, motionless. Like us, he simply sat in silence for a moment. Then very quietly, he spoke. "Is that him?"

Bo, sitting quietly between us, in innocent oblivion to the events unfolding, leaned forward in her chair. She didn't know the man, didn't know who he was, what he'd done, but an unusual solemnity clouded her eyes, picking up on our shock.

The man we were watching walked quietly, calmly, the way my sister might have done that night six months ago. He carried a bag of shopping, was looking about cautiously for traffic. As my sister would have done.

He was going about his daily life. Just as my sister had been.

I stared at the man, the man who had put down our dog when it was sick and lame and held six-year-old me while I cried, the man who I used to smile at in the street, the man whose name I had never thought would signify sickness, memories, despair.

Merrill's voice was hushed, monosyllabic in response to his nephew's question. "Yeah."

Echoes filled my brain.

_Fell asleep at the wheel...it can only have been for a minute..._

_He's shaking...sobbing...in shock..._

_The judge let him off...it was an honest accident...he never meant this to happen..._

I stared at him. I couldn't think. I was numb. It felt bizarre; detached, far enough away from the world not to feel; my disconnection tenuous enough that it could be shattered at any moment, bringing waves of unimaginable pain.

_A minute's enough..._

_Shock isn't a big enough word.._

_An honest accident that took my sister away..._

_And he gets to walk free..._

Beneath the mask of nothingness I felt covering my entire body, I could feel the same flames that had stoked and flared in a rhythm ever since that night six months ago; flames burnt by twisting bitterness, by anger, by a constant missing ache that, no matter how much time went by, would never, ever fade.

Fire. Frequently associated with anger, fury, revenge.

Someone's hand slid over mine. I didn't have to look up to know who it was.

I didn't pull away from Merrill. I didn't think about how good-looking he was. I didn't think any of those things. In my world as it was at that moment, there was no place for them.

Instead, I simply leaned into him. Because all I wanted at that moment was comfort. Comfort and a way to forget.

I stared at the man through the window, the man who was now reaching his car.

The man..

_Ray Reddy's truck swerved off the road...there was nothing anyone could do, he fell asleep at the wheel..._

Ray Reddy shut his car door and looked into my brother-in-law's eyes. Shock filtered across his face.

I sat frozen. Morgan and Bo were stiller than I'd ever seen them. Merrill was silent next to me.

Graham did not move for one long moment. Then in a slow movement, he raised and lowered his head in a tiny nod-an acknowledgement, an admittance, a sign.

Not a forgiveness.

Ray Reddy climbed into his truck. Escape was the only way to describe how quickly he was moving. I watched that truck. I thought how it must have looked in the woods that night.

Bo's voice filtered through the smothering blanket of frozen silence. "Who is he?"

Ray Reddy's truck moved away. His engine roared. He turned and drove off without a second glance.

A bizarre tangential thought bounced into my brain. _You can run, but you can't hide..._

A phrase that seemed more applicable here than any other circumstance I knew of.

Graham moved then. He turned slowly away from the window. He reached out, picked up a piece of pizza and began to eat.

Nobody followed suit.

Bo placed her chin in her hands. Morgan leant back in his chair, his eyes wide and staring. Merrill remained quiet, still staring out of the window as though somehow able to spot Ray Reddy's car, which had long since disappeared.

I sat still. I didn't move. I didn't speak. What was I meant to do?

Bo's voice spoke again, thawing the silence slightly, melting the ice of shock. "Who is he?"

I took a sip from a drink that I no longer tasted. Graham took a bite of pizza that I no longer had appetite for. Merrill looked at the little girl for one long moment without speaking. Morgan seemed to do nothing at all.

Nobody answered Bo's question. What on earth was there to say?

**Hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 6 will be up soon-not as long as this one took! Please review!**


	6. Hard to Explain

**Here's Chapter 6! Hope everyone enjoys it! Chapter 7 will be up soon! Thanks for all the reviews, favourites, etc.-it means a lot! Enjoy!**

Not surprisingly, the car ride home was not the most cheerful of journeys. Every one of us sat silent. Morgan stared at his lap. Bo-I wasn't sure how much she had grasped of the afternoon's events-was dreaming, gazing out of the window. I couldn't see Graham and Merrill's expressions, but I could imagine them.

I had no idea how I looked. All I could do was think. Think and think and think.

I could still remember the night I found out.

_People are only called to the dean's office for particular reasons and that's all I can think of when I'm told he wants to see me. And since it's almost midnight, I'm guessing it isn't to congratulate me on my grades._

_I stand outside the door, breathing hard, unable to force myself to knock, yet unable to turn and walk away._

_Suddenly, the door flies open and I almost fall into the room. Perfect entrance, Isabelle._

"_Isabelle" Dean Thompson stands above me. He's small, bald and from a dormitory window, looks rather like an egg walking through the grounds. However, right now, I'm not really in the mood for quips. _

_I stand upright, already searching the room with my eyes. My parents are sitting behind Dean Thompson. And my mother is crying._

_For a moment, I can't breathe._

"_Isabelle, please sit down" says Dean Thompson, gesturing me into the room. He closes the door behind me, indicating a chair near my parents._

"_What's going on?" I say, abandoning any attempts at greetings. "Mom? What's wrong?" I am shaking, trembling, my teeth clattering together. My eyes already burn with fear. _

_My mother tries to speak, but trips over tears. "Your-Isabelle, your-your sister-" She chokes slightly and buries her head in her hands._

"_Colleen?" I ask, which even in the severity of the circumstances, I can't help noticing is stupid. How many sisters do I have?_

_"Mom, what about Colleen?"_

_The Dean sighs. "Isabelle" he says, as though it's any of his darn business. "I'm afraid your parents have some very upsetting news-"  
>"What's happened?" I interrupt. My chest is tight and I can't breathe properly. This is a mistake...this has to be a mistake...<em>

_My mother shakes her head but my father sighs. He slides an arm around her shoulders._

_I turn to him, because even though I argue with him and fight with him and give him hell for not understanding, this is a time I need him. I need him not to be crying. I need him to listen._

_I need to count on him to tell me what's going on._

The car swerved and with a jolt, I was pulled out of my memories. I looked around to find us pulling up our own driveway. I'd hardly even noticed the journey home. No-one had spoken the entire way.

The car juddered slightly as Graham brought it to a halt, and then fell silent as, with a twist, he turned off the ignition. We were home. I waited, looking around.

Nobody got out of the car.

I couldn't have explained it. If I was one of those hippie aura types, I'd have said we were all connected in the moment or something. As it is, I'm not and all I can say is time felt strange, frozen. Almost as though the world had stopped for a few moments and nobody dared move in case it shattered into a thousand pieces.

What felt like an hour went by. Still, nobody moved.

Then something crackled in Morgan's pocket.

I almost jumped out of my skin. God knows why-what did I expect was in there? What did I think was going to happen? Did I think an alien was suddenly going to jump out of his stomach or something, like we were in some horror movie with extra special effects and absolutely no plot?

As it was, I wasn't the only one wondering.

"What is it?" I jumped again at the sound of Merrill's voice. What the hell was wrong with me? What did I think, that-

I couldn't even come up with a smart remark.

Graham answered, his voice seeming to shatter the remaining slice of peace in the car. "It's Bo's baby monitor."

I turned to Bo automatically, frowning. She widened her eyes at me and shrugged.

"I found it in the basement" Morgan said, examining the device he'd pulled from his pocket. So that's what he was doing in there this morning. He turned it over and I noticed three red lights flickering on the back. I didn't have a clue what that meant, but I guessed it was some kind of signal of how much noise the monitor was picking up.

"I'm going to use it as a walkie-talkie" Morgan informed us. I decided not to burst his bubble by telling him that, without a second monitor to respond with, the thing was going to be pretty much useless.

There was a loud crackle from the baby monitor. I jumped. Maybe I was just stupid, but I always thought there had to be another baby monitor for one to catch a signal. And there wasn't another baby monitor in sight here.

_There'll be one nearby_ I told myself. _There's one nearby, for pity's sake._

What other explanation was there? What did I think was going on? Did I think the baby monitor was about to come to life or something?

Morgan apparently had another idea. "What if it's catching a signal from them?" He pointed upwards.  
>Stupidly, I followed his gaze, staring up as though I expected to see anything other than the roof of the car above my head. Even more stupidly, it took me a few moments to figure out what Morgan meant. Who were them? And why would he point up? Did he mean birds? Angels? <em>God<em>?

Graham interrupted my thoughts with a sigh. He stared at his son, worriedly. "It's not" he said gently, quietly, as though not wanting to hurt his son's feelings. I stared at him. What was the problem? What was Morgan talking-

Then the penny dropped-ten seconds later than everyone else. Of course. Aliens. What _else_ would Morgan be talking about?

You know, I'd thought the whole alien theory was pretty interesting when it first started out but now I was finding it a little wearing. I mean, OK it was interesting to entertain the thought for, like, five minutes but this was getting a bit obsessive. I didn't want Morgan freaking out about all this, getting frightened.

Morgan, however, already appeared fascinated-and stubborn in his theory. "But it wasn't working" he pointed out-a rational argument, I had to admit.

I shook myself. What was I talking about, rational? We were talking about a possible alien invasion. Where did rational come into that?

Merrill, it appeared, had reached the end of his tether. He swung round in his seat to face his nephew. "Morgan-" he sighed, apparently wondering how best to articulate his point. "This crop stuff is about a bunch of nerds who've never had a girlfriend in their lives."

Well done on stereotypes there, Merrill. Nice move.

Merrill continued. "They're like 30 and they work up little codes together-"

Even better. Incidentally, wasn't that how the whole Internet started? A group of nerds sitting together, inventing computer codes?

I didn't have time to dwell on that fascinating point, however, as Merrill was still talking.

"-and analyze Greek mythology-"

I blinked.  
>What?<p>

OK, I got what he was saying, but where the hell did Greek mythology come into it? I understood where Merrill was coming from, but I had to admit, the more he said, the more his theory started to sound just as ridiculous as the whole alien idea.

Even if he did look pretty good, saying it.

Merrill was still speaking. "-and make up secret societies, where other guys who've never had girlfriends before can join in. They do stupid crap like this to feel special. It's a scam." He nodded, apparently pleased with himself. "Nerds were doing it twenty five years ago and now new nerds are doing it again."

The theory of hoax nerdom, according to Merrill Hess.

OK, the situation was pretty serious, but suddenly I found myself biting back a grin at Merrill's whole secret society idea. Secret society-what did he think they were, the Secret Seven?

Graham who'd been following his brother's speech, nodded slightly. However, I noticed the slight frown over his eyes and guessed that he too might have picked up on the fact that his younger brother's theory might be just as out there as the alien one.

Merrill widened his eyes at his older sibling in what was clearly supposed to be a meaningful gesture. A gesture for Graham to agree, tell Morgan there was no need to worry, that aliens didn't exist and there was absolutely nothing to be scared of regarding the crop circles, then get out of the car and lead us all into the house, back to normality.

Graham seemed to take the hint.

"It's just static, Morgan" he said, almost hopefully, as though wishing the statement to be true. "Turn it up, see." He nodded at his son, clearly hoping to be proved right. Morgan twiddled the knob slowly.

A rush of buzzing sounded from the baby monitor. Now, I was no expert with baby monitors, but what I'd just heard did not sound like static to me. At all.

And the next rush of buzzing sounded like something else altogether. A soft clicking sound.

"What the hell is that?" I muttered. I leaned over to Morgan, gesturing to him to hold the device higher. The sounds became slightly clearer. I stared at the monitor, racking my brains for any explanation as to what it could be.

The clicking became clearer, louder, more distinct. I sucked in a breath through my teeth. "Sounds like a.."

"It's a code!" exclaimed Morgan. For someone who might be discovering evidence of an alien invasion, he looked far more excited than scared. Not at all how I was feeling.

Because-and okay, I did not claim to understand "click" dialect-those sounds did not sound friendly.

Something tugged at my sleeve and I turned to see Bo frowning at me from her seat. "Why can't they get girlfriends?"

I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing out loud. I knew how irritating Bo would find it.

I was not successful.

"What?" Bo stared at me, frowning slightly, causing me to raise my hands in mock surrender and try to explain.

"I wasn't laughing at you-"

"But why can't they get girlfriends?"

I looked desperately at Graham, who looked utterly panic-stricken. Still, he was her dad. This job fell to him.

Graham cleared his throat. "I'll tell you later, Bo-"

"But-"  
>The monitor buzzed again.<p>

Merrill leaned into the backseat, face clouded with concern. "Can I see that, please?"

With a quick nod and frown, Morgan passed the baby monitor to his uncle. Merrill stared at the device, turning it between strong fingers, eyes examining it cautiously. The clicking noise had transformed-to a soft popping. I listened, bemused.

Merrill looked as confused as I felt. "It's just _noise"_ he murmured to his brother. I sat still, unsure what to say. If it was noise, it was very suspicious noise, I knew that much.

Graham sighed. "It's broken, Morgan." He raised an eyebrow at his son. "It's just going to keep doing this."

I raised an eyebrow myself. Maybe I was naive but I found that explanation pretty hard to swallow.

"Maybe it needs some new batteries.." Graham muttered, obviously hoping that if the static from the baby monitor disappeared, maybe his son's preoccupation with the possible alien invasion would follow suit.

Morgan looked outraged. "We might lose the signal!"

I sighed. Merrill rested his head on one hand. "This is exactly what the nerds want..." he intoned, in a voice of sepulchral doom.

I turned to Morgan, hoping to be slightly more useful with my input. "Morgan, sweetheart, I don't think there is a signal as such-"

Graham suddenly sighed. "I'm getting out now." His tone was such that it silenced all other conversation, squashed any objections-and discouraged any further talk of aliens.

Slowly, Morgan slid open the car door, and I followed him out into the sunlight, Bo scrambling out of the other side. At the front, Graham and Merrill were banging their doors shut with definite optimism-or at least, hope to forget the alien conundrum.

The baby monitor buzzed again. Loudly.

Almost as though proving Graham wrong...

A voice came from the baby monitor.

I almost fell over on the spot.

"Nobody move!"

Everyone automatically froze at Morgan's command. Bo spun round quickly in her haste to obey.

Breathing hard, Morgan and I stared at each other from where we both stood beside the car.

The voice had not spoken words or language. It had not even made recognisable sounds. But it was a voice. I knew it.

I couldn't explain how but I knew it.

"Voices" said Morgan, apparently struggling to catch his breath. My mind automatically jumped to his inhaler. Where had we seen it last?

That, though, seemed to be the last thing on Morgan's mind. "Did you hear that? Not English, though." He turned to his uncle. "You heard the voices, right, Uncle Merrill?"

Merrill looked at Morgan with the expression of one fearing for his and others' sanity.

I stared at him hard. Seeming to sense my gaze, he glanced up at me over his nephew's head. I widened my eyes in a silent question.  
>Merrill shrugged. But he didn't deny hearing something.<p>

Bo's voice broke the silence. "I heard them, Morgan."

I stared at my niece standing, small and serious-faced on the other side of the car.

Morgan turned to me. "Isabelle?"

I stared at my nephew. My mind swam with how to answer him. It threw out numerous theories, beliefs, ideas which explained why it couldn't be aliens, couldn't possibly be signs from outer space, had to be a logical, rational explanation, had to be..

And yet...I had heard the voices too.

The voices were just the tip of the iceberg. I, of all people, knew the world did not always work in logical ways. That not everything could be explained.

And that sometimes, in some circumstances, rationality did not even exist.

I had heard the voices too. I turned to my nephew and nodded.

Graham stared at his children for a moment. I had absolutely no idea what he was thinking. "Probably picking up another baby monitor" he said softly.

Merrill nodded, blinking fast, as though clearing his head. "That's right." Yet I couldn't help noticing the doubt in his tone, the way his head tipped uncertainly to the left, the way he stared at his brother, almost as though seeking reassurance.

We all stood still for another moment around the car, doing nothing but staring at the baby monitor, which Graham was still holding. I swallowed, grateful that Graham's house was in the middle of nowhere, painfully aware that if anyone passed by, and saw us, standing still around a stationary car, apparently listening to a baby monitor, they'd probably think we were either engaging in some bizarre ritual or were just a bit bonkers.

Suddenly, the buzzing increased. Only it wasn't buzzing. Not at all.

There could be no denying the sounds of communication this time.

Graham froze, staring at the baby monitor, which sounded as though it was broadcasting from some kind of studio, the amount of noise we were getting. Merrill leaned across the car. "Let me see it.."

Graham raised the device slightly.

And it screamed.

Or that's what it sounded like; as though an ear-splitting scream had just been wrenched from the monitor, as though something, somewhere was howling in terror. Static and sound alike poured from the device as we all stood frozen, still and silent.

All the hairs on the back of my neck were upright even as the sound quietened, fading down to the more familiar dull background sound of pops and clicks.

"Stop!" I jumped at the sound of Morgan's voice, raised in a sharp cry. He stared up at me, his face white.

Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. I turned to Merrill, who was staring, as though frozen, at his brother.

Slowly, Graham opened his mouth. "See." His voice was low, firm, desperate. "This is why we're not watching TV." His grip on the baby monitor tightened. "People get obsessed." He nodded to himself, as though making up his mind about something. "I'm letting go now."

"No, Dad!"

"Don't do it!"

"It's picking up something, Graham-" My own voice cut in over Morgan and Bo's. I stared at the determined expression on their father's face, at a loss at how to make my point. All I knew was whatever was coming through that baby monitor was not normal. Not just another baby monitor.

It didn't even sound human.

Graham glanced from one face to the other. He looked as though he wished desperately to be anywhere else but here. Finally, he turned his gaze to his brother, widening his eyes across the car roof.

Merrill stared at him, his face pale but fixed. "You'll lose the signal." His hand, clenched tight around the baby monitor, was shaking.

The aerial was dipping slightly. I reached over to lift it, hoping to clear the signal slightly. My hand brushed against Merrill's, his skin against mine.

I froze for an instant, before moving away, an automatic flush rising to my cheeks. But all I could feel was a strange heat against my palm, almost as though Merrill's skin had branded, burnt me in some way. Chancing a glance at him, I noticed his eyes were intent, staring at my face as though searching a page of a book for one elusive word. He dropped his gaze, and I couldn't help noticing his cheeks seemed uncharacteristically flushed. I couldn't suppress a small smirk.

However, even I understood, that at that moment, whatever was going on between Merrill and I would kind of have to take a backseat, due to the fact we were dealing with the mildly pressing issue of a possible alien invasion. Annoying, but it couldn't be avoided.

At that moment, my attention was diverted by a scraping noise from the trunk of the car. Glancing over the roof, I spotted the top of Morgan's head. I watched, mildly surprised as he pulled himself up onto the car , wriggling on his stomach and yanking himself forward on his arms. "Don't let go" he called, a comment presumably directed at his father. He crawled forward across the car roof, reaching the point where the baby monitor hovered, suspended by his uncle and father's hands. "It gets clearer the higher you hold it." It was a good guess; signals _did_ get clearer the higher up you were, I'd learnt enough times with my cell phone.

Morgan reached out for the baby monitor, gently prising it from his father's grip. Graham leaned forward, frowning, perhaps worrying about the safety hazards of letting his ten-year-old son lounge about on the car roof. Merrill glancing at his brother, seemed to interpret his expression. "I got it" he said, reaching out to grasp Morgan somewhat awkwardly, though reducing the danger of him falling and breaking his neck.

Around the other side of the car, Bo had obviously decided to follow suit. All I saw was a quick blur of brown hair as she scurried around to the back and began to scramble up after her brother.

That got Graham's attention. "Bo, honey, I don't want you climbing on the car." OK, Graham was a great dad, but he had to realise how that was going to go down. Yeah, your brother can go climbing about up there, with the exciting toy channelling alien signals, but you have to stay down on the ground where it's safe? Fat chance.

"It's OK, I've got her." I scrambled onto the car myself, ending up almost lying across it, before pulling myself up onto the roof. I leaned down, holding out a hand to Bo, who was still determinedly scrambling forward, despite Graham's increasing attempts to lift her off the hood of the car. Bo kept going, like a determined spider monkey. I grinned, in spite of the seriousness of the situation.

Bo reached forward, her hand grabbing onto mine as she pulled herself higher. Graham, apparently giving in, allowed himself to be pulled onto the car after his daughter, ending up half-sitting on the hood, still keeping a firm grasp on the little girl.

Someone moved beside me and I turned to find Merrill also pulling himself onto the roof. " Come here." He held out an arm to Bo.

I again thanked God that Graham's house was in the middle of nowhere, because I was painfully aware that had we been in the middle of the street, we would have made an exceptionally odd sight. Five people sitting on a car, holding a baby monitor up to the sky. We'd probably be arrested on grounds of terminally humiliating minors.

Turning round on the car roof was somewhat difficult, but I managed it. For a minute. Losing my grip on Bo's hand, I got a quick glimpse of Morgan now kneeling on the roof of the car, his arm high above his head, the baby monitor as near to the sky as he could reach.

Then I lost my balance.

There were two ways I could have fallen. I could have gone to my left, rolled right off the car and smashed onto the gravel driveway, possibly disfiguring myself and ensuring my enduring and permanent humiliation in front of my family forever. Or I could have gone to my right, moving only a few inches before my fall was halted as I was caught-by someone.

Guess which way I went.  
>For bonus points, guess who caught me.<p>

And no, there are no prizes for getting the right answer.

"Sorry." Merrill's arms were round my shoulders as he steered me back into a sitting position. He didn't look sorry. In fact, he was openly grinning.

"I'm the one who fell into you" I pointed out. His arm was still around my shoulders and he didn't seem to be in any great rush to pull it away.

Then again, neither was I.

He didn't pull away. In fact, as we both turned to pull Bo up higher, he seemed to pull me closer, so I leaned further into his shoulder. I had no objection at all. For once.

Graham raised an eyebrow, but made no comment. Bo, on the other hand, openly grinned. She opened her mouth, only to be cut off by Morgan's cry.

"Stop!"

Merrill and I turned as one towards the head of the car. Morgan, who Merrill was still holding upright, was now kneeling as high as possible, his arm stretched as far as it could go. The baby monitor hovered in the air, red lights blinking.

Bo's hand fastened onto mine. I squeezed her fingers, unable to do anything else from my position on the car. With Graham holding his daughter, Bo clinging to my hand, Merrill and I-er-holding each other, and Merrill keeping Morgan upright with the other hand, I was vaguely aware we made a kind of bizarre human chain.

Morgan's voice was lower now, more hushed. "There's two of them talking."

The baby monitor, which had been quieter for the last minute or so, suddenly decided to make up for it. A rush of sound issued from the monitor, which formed into...

Different clicks and pops and clacks. A foreign dialect.

An alien dialect.  
>And unless I was very much mistaken, those clicks and clacks, seemed to form a conversation.<p>

An alien conversation...

All of us had fallen silent by this point. I stared at Morgan as he held the monitor as high as possible, his arm ramrod straight and still. I froze and felt Merrill do the same beside me.

And the sounds fell silent.

Static buzzed through the device. After another second or so, Morgan lowered his arm, his head bowing over the object. All of us stayed still, seated on the roof of the car, staring at a baby monitor with almost identical looks of disappointment and confusion on our faces. If I'd been in the mood, I'd have commented on how lucky it was that we were in the middle of nowhere, because to be honest, right now, we all kind of looked like we were missing a few brain cells.

But I'd already made that joke twice in my head and it hadn't been that funny the first time. I was willing to bet being spoken aloud wouldn't improve it.

Plus, even I sensed it wasn't the right moment.

So I kept my mouth shut.

Slowly, Bo let go of my hand and slid back down the trunk into her father's arms. I sighed and shuffled round as the five of us began the process of climbing down off the car roof.

"Uncle Merrill was hugging you again" Bo announced brightly as we walked into the house a few minutes later. I closed my eyes, desperately hoping for a response that would not make me look stupid or expose the truth.

"That was just to stop me falling off the car, Bo." I told her. "I'd have hurt myself, otherwise." Merrill, a few steps ahead of me, flushed scarlet but did not bother to corroborate my explanation. Bo gave me a long look but did not say anything. Instead, she scampered upstairs with Morgan, along with their new purchase of the day.

Wandering through to the family room, I stood still, pushing my hands through my hair. It hadn't exactly been an easy day. Nor an uneventful one.

Something twinkled in the light and I looked up to spot the glasses I had pointlessly rearranged earlier.

_They're not in the right order.._

They're fine. Shut up.

_They're not..._

Shut _up._

_Something could go wrong.._

I kicked the side of the couch, angrily. This had the effect of gifting me with a throbbing pain in my big toe. Perfect.

Sulking, I wandered into the kitchen, where I proceeded to pick up a book and firmly lose myself in the pages, trying desperately to ignore the thoughts that insisted those glasses had not been arranged correctly.

"Kids! Dinner!"

There was no movement from upstairs. I sat at the kitchen table, head slumped on one hand, starving for food. The pizza seemed like ages ago now, though it had only been a few hours since we got home. Merrill leaned against the counter, eyeing the plates casually through half-closed eyes-an expression which made me stare at him even more, if that was possible, with all manner of increasingly detailed thoughts running through my brain.

Merrill's gaze flickered over to me and I hastily lowered my eyes to the tabletop.

"Morgan! Bo! Dinner's ready!" Graham rolled his eyes at me, indicating the browning chicken sitting on several different plates, waiting to fulfil its' life's purpose and be consumed by a hungry family.

I sighed, putting my book down. I felt tired and stressed and moody and I wasn't looking forward to returning to college the next day, either. I hadn't had nearly enough time here. I wanted to see more of Morgan and Bo. I wanted to spend more time with them.

OK, I wanted to spend more time with Merrill, too. Who could blame me?

And to be honest..

"Morgan!" Graham pushed a hand through his hair. "Isabelle, would you go and get them?"

Thanks, Graham, treat me like a slightly older kid. Still, I was hungry, so for once, I complied with the request.

"Morgan!" I called, heading towards the stairs. "Bo! Your dinner's on the table!"

I started up the steps. From further above, I could hear the faint murmur of voices. So they hadn't passed out or been abducted or vanished to check out the rest of the mysterious crop circles-they were just too busy to pay any attention to their father. Great.

Reaching their room, I found a none-too-surprising sight-both children seated on a bed, dark brown heads bent solemnly over a book spread across their knees, occasionally lifting a hand to turn the page. Basically, exactly how I'd been as a kid.

"Kids" I said softly.

Neither of them looked up.

OK, this was getting annoying. I'd just dragged myself up the stairs to get them-I could just as easily have refused and let their tea go cold-and now I was being completely blanked whilst they examined some book they shouldn't even have really bought in the first place. A mature person would have responded with confidence and poise.

I, on the other hand, walked over and slammed my hand down on the page in front of them. I regretted the action almost immediately. Morgan looked up with a gasp, automatically reaching for his inhaler and Bo jumped, clinging to her brother tightly.

"I've been calling you for five minutes!" I softened my tone slightly-both Morgan and Bo looked as though I might eat them. "Your dad's been yelling for you."

Morgan shrugged, and slid off the bed, gently pushing the book back into its' apparent hiding position-under his shirt. Bo, on the other hand, stayed still, swinging her legs and sticking her thumb in her mouth. Her eyebrows knitted together in a frown, her lips puckered up and her eyes troubled.

Morgan, apparently untroubled by anything, was already on his way to the door. "Come on, Bo." He turned to me. "Aren't you coming, Isabelle?"

I shook my head quickly. "Tell your dad we'll be down in a minute, OK?" Inwardly, I winced at the thought of the expression on Graham's face when he realised the meal was going to be delayed even longer.

Morgan frowned and nodded. "OK." A small smirk crooked the corner of his mouth. "I'll let Uncle Merrill know where you are, too."

"Given that he's in the kitchen with your father, it would be hard for him not to know." I retorted, knowing perfectly well what Morgan was implying.

Morgan sniggered quietly and I felt my cheeks flush. "I'll tell him, anyway" he grinned. He walked to the door before coming to a halt to gaze back at me over his shoulder. I waited, expecting another jibe, but instead received a look full of surprising sincerity.

"What?" I asked, trying to lighten my tone, make my face smile. Morgan was only ten, after all.

Morgan shrugged. "Uncle Merrill just likes you, that's all" he smiled, with a quick glance at his younger sister. "A lot."

Perfect. How did I end this conversation?

Fortunately, I didn't have to. Morgan decided to continue our little dialogue. "And you like him." His smile widened. "Right?"

OK, that was it. We might be close, but there was no way I was confiding my secrets to a ten-year-old. But I didn't want to lie to him either.

So I took the easy way out.

"Your uncle's nice" I told him, deliberately making my tone as lackadaisical and absent-minded as possible. I winced, though, at my pretty pathetic description. _Nice. _Your uncle's _nice._ I mean, I was trying to play down how much I liked him, but I could have come up with a better phrase than _that._

Morgan rolled his eyes, looking pretty sarcastic for a ten-year-old. I moved to the bed, putting my arm around Bo's shoulders to indicate a desire to change the subject. Bo stared up at me, eyes wide.

Morgan sighed. "Fine. I'll tell them you'll be down in a minute." He set off towards the stairs, pocketing his inhaler as he went.

I waited until I was sure Morgan was down the steps before turning to Bo. "What's up?"

Bo stared at me. I waited. I always knew. I always knew when something was up with her. I had done, her entire life, and even I couldn't explain why or how. Colleen used to say it was because we were kindred spirits.

Bo shifted slightly, leaning towards me, burying her head under my arm. I slid round, my arm wrapping around her shoulders, lowering my head so my mouth was near her ear. "Tell me what's wrong."

Bo stared up at me, her eyes solemn. Lowering her gaze, she murmured something incomprehensible.

"What was that?"

Bo sighed and stared up at me, her face white and tense. "I had a bad dream."

I pushed a hand gently through her hair. "When? Last night?" That must have been why Graham had gone in to talk to her.

Bo nodded. I sighed, pulling her closer. "What was this bad dream about?"

Bo shrugged, shaking her head. She'd always had nightmares; woken up crying, been tense and withdrawn the next day. She was a bit like me; not an easy sleeper.

She mumbled something I didn't quite hear.

I stared at her. "What?"

Bo stared up at me, eyes wide. "I don't want something bad to happen." She blinked up at me, fearful and quiet. "I had bad dreams."  
>I slid my arms around her, my mind racing as to what to say. "Bo, sweetheart, nothing bad is going to happen." Yeah, I couldn't predict the future, I knew that, but come on, how bad could things get? Besides, I was trying to reassure my niece, not panic her more.<p>

"Bo" I said to her. "I promise nothing is going to happen to you or anyone else. Nothing bad anyway."

Bo stared up at me. "How can you be sure?"  
>I told you she was the oldest four-year-old in the world.<p>

I stared at her, struggling for an answer. I figured it might be a good idea to start with the truth.

"I can't be, sweetheart."  
>Bo's face puckered.<p>

"But it is very likely nothing bad will happen." I sighed, trying to explain the odds to her. "It's almost definite we'll all be fine. I promise."

Bo blinked sadly. "But we can't be sure?"  
>I stared at her. No, we couldn't.<p>

"No-one can ever be sure of anything, sweetheart. Not absolutely." I sighed, feeling like I'd done a lousy job of comforting her, cheering her up, had only made the problem worse in fact. Part of me longed to go back and start the conversation all over again. But what else could I say?

Bo lowered her eyes, downcast. I sighed, gently tugged at her arm. "Come on, we need to go down to dinner."

Bo slid off the bed and padded out of the room. But the tense set of her shoulders told me her worries weren't quite gone, and I trudged down after her, regretting my failure at easing the little girl's mind.

"Why do I have to be the one to wash up?"

"Because your sister's too little. She's only four!"  
>"I'm only ten!"<p>

"That's six years older, Morgan-"

While this argument reigned, I sat silently in my chair, my hunger satisfied from the enormous dinner we'd all just eaten. I sat, quietly watching Graham try to persuade his son to do the washing up for the night. Both Merrill and I had volunteered to help out, but for some reason, Graham turned down both offers.

Speaking of Merrill, it had been mildly difficult making conversation throughout the meal. Somehow, we'd ended up seated next to each other. Which was no big deal, except for the fact that every so often I'd end up losing my train of thought because Merrill's hand would brush mine or his elbow would bump into me or I'd catch sight of his eyes and lose track of whatever we were talking about. It hadn't helped that every time I'd looked up, Morgan seemed to be watching us, and though he'd immediately drop his gaze, a knowing smirk would play around his lips and his eyes would be bright with triumph.

So, all in all, I'd been a bit distracted at dinner.

Shaking my head, I brought myself back to the present conversation. Graham was now trying to persuade Morgan to do the dishes, with the promise of his sister's help drying. A disgruntled looking Morgan was shaking his head.

Merrill leant over. "Do you want to leave them to it?"

My heartbeat, which had been only slightly elevated a moment before, sped up so fast I seriously considered the possibility of cardiac arrest before I got out of my chair. I took a deep breath. Stay calm. Play it cool.

"OK" I said, in a voice which was little more than a hamster squeak, while smiling wider than a banana. At the same time, I rose from my chair, tripped and almost fell into Merrill's lap.

Brilliant. When most people say they've never been so embarrassed in their lives, they're exaggerating. I wasn't. Trust me, I wasn't. Because the only thing that could have made that situation worse was if I'd been wearing an I Love Cliff Richard poncho, with a nice photo on the top.

Merrill was tactful enough not to laugh. But he did grin, biting his lip and awkwardly slide an arm around my shoulders to help me up-which almost made me lose my balance again.  
>"Sorry..."<p>

Merrill shook his head, still grinning. "Don't worry about it.."

Graham was bent over, scooping some food into a bowl. "I'm going outside" he told the kitchen at large. "Need to feed Isabel." Morgan snorted in response, his resentment over the delegation of the dish-washing duties clearly indicated.

As we headed for the family room, Merrill reached out and picked up a piece of paper off the table. Being-I now accepted-in the unhealthy stage of complete obsession, I peered curiously at it. Throwing myself down on the couch, I got a clear glimpse of the thing and realised it was an army pamphlet.

An army pamphlet?

Of course- we'd been in the Army Recruitment Office today. And, this was a bit of a stretch of the imagination, but an Army Recruitment Office may conceivably contain information and paraphernalia for the army.

Yep, liking someone like this should definitely come with a health warning. It should be counted as highly hazardous on the grounds it made you criminally stupid.

Still, I figured I might as well make conversation.

"Army leaflet?" I asked, nodding towards the paper Merrill was now examining carefully.

"Yep" he told me, popping a piece of gum in his mouth. I stared, watching his jaw move, the way his lips pursed slightly as he lowered his gaze back to the paper.

I kept my tone carefully neutral. "You thinking of applying?" Yeah, I was being nosy. But hey, I'd had a hard day. Spare me some slack.

Merrill looked up at me, his eyes on mine, a small smirk twisting the corner of his mouth. "Kind of. Not really sure, though." He sighed and I saw a tinge of strain seep back into his face. "Can't keep working in a gas station for the rest of my life."

I nodded. "Did you-did you decide to give up on the baseball thing, then?" I asked, slightly-_timidly_ for me. I could have bitten out my tongue the moment I'd said it.

Merrill's eyebrows knitted together in a frown and his face clouded over. "Yeah.." he muttered. "I played for a while, but it didn't really work out.." He glanced up at me. "You heard today, in the office.."

I flushed, lowering my gaze. Brilliant, Isabelle. Just brilliant. Reminding him of the people who taunted him about his failed baseball career. _This_ _is why you do not have a boyfriend_. Well done, Isabelle. Perhaps your finest hour.

"I know that guy" I told him quietly, not daring to meet his eyes. "Lionel Pritchard. We were at school together." He was a total jerk and I used to pray for his death each night, I did not add. I wasn't totally stupid.

"I got that" Merrill said softly. I glanced up to find him no longer examining the army pamphlet. He was looking at me.  
>I shrugged, determined to lighten the atmosphere as much as I could. "Yeah, well.." I muttered. "We didn't exactly-we weren't exactly friends..."<p>

Merrill raised an eyebrow. "Got that too." His hands tightened on his leaflet, but when he spoke again, his voice was softer than I'd ever heard it. "Ignore him, Isabelle. He's a moron."

I chanced a glance over at the sink. Morgan and Bo were engaging in a splashing fight as they washed the dishes, Morgan apparently forgetting his indignation over the chore.

I sighed, turning my attention to the book I held in my hands. Merrill dropped his gaze back to the leaflet, the conversation apparently at an end.

There was a volley of barking from outside. Isabel was apparently not taking well to being fed her dinner.

"What are you studying?"

I looked up.

Merrill was staring at me again, his eyes intent. "What are you studying in college?" He smiled, and suddenly his face brightened, lighting his eyes. I knew how different a face could appear with a smile but I'd never seen it so clearly displayed before, and its' effect was contagious.

"I'm majoring in psychology" I answered, feeling my own smile spread across my face. "It's my favourite subject. I always-" I laughed, remembering my childhood thoughts on the matter. "I always kind of hated psychologists and counsellors as a kid, but as I got older I kind of got interested in it. I mean, when you think about it, what they do is quite cool. They help kids. They help families who are struggling. It's-just kind of a worthwhile thing, I guess." I trailed off, aware that I was babbling.

Merrill was grinning, though. "Yeah, it is." He leant forward slightly, apparently abandoning the leaflet. "Is that what you want to be? A psychologist?"  
>I nodded. "I guess. I was thinking psychiatrist but I didn't really want to go through medical school. I'd really like to be a kids' counsellor, though. I saw enough of them as a kid, to know what not to do, after all-" I shut up, aware I was digging a bit too deep back into my own memories.<p>

Merrill didn't look embarrassed or freaked out, though. In fact, he just looked interested, in a non-nosy kind of way. "You saw a counsellor?"

_Well done, Isabelle. Confide in the guy you like you saw a shrink as a kid. Really good idea. For God's sake..._

Still, there was no going back now. "Yeah. For a while. It wasn't a big deal or anything-" My voice trailed off again.

Merrill's grin wavered. "There's nothing wrong with it, you know."

"Yeah, I know" I answered. "It's just-at school, I didn't really-tell anyone and when they found out they didn't really-get it.." I cut myself off again. No need to tell Merrill about one kid in particular seeing a note on my teacher's desk excusing me to go to my latest appointment with the shrink and spreading it round the entire class that I was some kind of psycho. No need to tell him about how glad I was to see the back of that year.

Merrill seemed to interpret my silence correctly, though. "That must have been-" He waved a hand, apparently unable to articulate the situation. "Difficult" he finally seemed to settle on. "For you, I mean."

I nodded. "Yeah, I guess." I smiled slightly. "'Specially when you're dealing with people like Lionel Pritchard." Yeah, school prankster even then. He had a long list of gags that seemed to be created specially with people like me in mind. My favourite and most original had to be him breaking into my locker freshman year and filling it with pictures of strait-jackets, before labelling my locker door with the highly informative term "Psycho girl." That had to get the number one spot, right up there with the "Kick Me" sign he pinned on me in third grade.

Merrill smiled. "Yeah, I guess so."

I stared at him. "Why do you really want to apply to the army?" The question popped out of my mouth before I even finished thinking it.

Merrill put the leaflet aside and stared at me. He didn't look angry, as I'd have expected. Instead, he merely looked thoughtful as though considering the best way to answer my question. I waited, heart beating slightly faster than usual.

Merrill sighed and picked the leaflet back up. "So I can get away somewhere else." I blinked, surprised-I'd thought he liked living here, liked seeing Graham and..

Merrill smiled, interpreting my expression. "Don't get me wrong, I like being here, I like being with Graham and the kids, but..." His eyes dropped to the floor. "I need to get out of here" he said softly. "There's too much stuff here, too many-" He waved his hand in the air. "Too much junk from the past."  
>I sat still, staring at him. What did he mean by that "too much junk from the past"?<br>Merrill was still watching me. "What about you?" he asked suddenly.

"What about me what?" Very grammatical, Isabelle.

"Why do you really want to be a psychologist?"

Good question.

I sat back in my chair, considering my answer. I closed my eyes, suddenly tired, exhausted from all the events of –had it really been only two days?

"To-" I sighed, sitting upright in my chair. "To-deal with things, deal with problems. To help kids who need it. Kids sometimes-" I frowned, wondering how to put it. "Kids sometimes need stuff that adults don't realise. And-I want to give them that. Sometimes, what a kid's parents think is a problem isn't one and sometimes what they think's best for their kids, isn't what's best for them. It's-parents can get things wrong. And kids get-lost, they need-" I stopped, aware that I was rambling. "That's what I want to do" I said softly. "Help kids get back to themselves." I looked up to find Merrill watching me intently. From the sink, I could hear faint giggles and splashes of water.

"So, yeah" I finished lamely. I glanced down at my book, for lack of anything else to do. But I could still feel Merrill's gaze on my face and somehow I couldn't ignore it. I looked up to meet his eyes, softer than I'd ever seen them.

"That's a pretty good reason" he said, quieter than I'd ever heard him speak. "You want to help people. That's-" He didn't finish the sentence. But he smiled and so did I. The sounds from the kitchen behind us seemed to have died down somewhat and the world somehow seemed to be waiting, on edge for something to happen.

"Let's see what you're looking at" I said, getting up off the couch before I could change my mind. I walked round so I was standing behind his chair, bent down over his shoulder to examine the leaflet in his hands.

"It's just an army pamphlet" Merrill told me, handing it over anyway. I stared at it, the pamphlet the last thing on my mind, my brain too caught up instead in noticing how close we were and how I could almost feel the heat of his skin from here and how near his hair was to my hand and how if I was careful, I could just reach across and...

I caught my breath, feeling Merrill's eyes on my face. I dropped my gaze back to the pamphlet, hoping my expression hadn't given my thoughts away, though Merrill's slight smirk indicated otherwise.

I stared at the piece of paper in my hand, my mind racing.

"Are you really going to join the army?" I asked, my voice softer, more vulnerable than I'd intended.

Merrill stared up at me, his smirk growing. "Why? Do you want me to stick around?"

My eyes met his and I didn't look away. "Maybe." I said quietly, barely breathing.

Merrill's eyes softened and his expression changed but he didn't turn away either. He sat still, staring up at me.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, each of us staring at the other, only vaguely aware of Morgan and Bo, still washing up behind us. Merrill's eyes were mesmerising, transfixing, their turquoise surprisingly vivid. In this light, his hair was deep brown, in sharp contrast with his skin. And his lips were soft, pink, and at this angle, seemed so near to mine...

Merrill lifted his arm, using his fingers to catch a strand of hair that had somehow fallen forward and hung loose over my ear. "Your hair looks nice, loose" he said softly. I didn't speak, barely able to breathe, hardly hearing over the sound of my own heartbeat.

Merrill stared at me, and I couldn't help noticing he hadn't let go of my hair. I could feel the warmth of his hand, so near to my skin. I stared at him, heart pounding, barely thinking at all, Morgan and Bo's splashing seeming a distant memory.

Merrill moved slightly and I felt a strange jolt as his hand brushed against my skin. He didn't move away. He stayed still, his hand still gently cupping my cheek. "You look really pretty" he whispered, his voice so soft I had to strain to hear him, feeling my face flush at his words.

I didn't move, didn't speak. Neither did he. All we did was stay still, completely still, as though the world was slowing down, as though everything was holding its' breath...

The back door opened, and Graham's footsteps signalled his return to the kitchen.

I jumped and Merrill pulled his hand away from my face as though he'd been burnt. I half-ran back to my chair, sitting down and curling up, my knees tucked under me as I stared unseeingly at my book, unable to think for the violent thudding in my chest. Graham had to have seen that, he couldn't have missed it. What would he think of...

I glanced over at Merrill, whose gaze was focused firmly downwards, apparently absorbed in his army leaflet. But his cheeks were strangely flushed, and I had the feeling he was having about as much success reading his leaflet as I was with my book.

I heard the squeak of a chair being pulled out, the splashing of water at the sink. Apparently, neither Morgan nor Bo had noticed the considerably strange interaction between Merrill and I. I dropped my gaze back to my book, my heart thudding, not daring to look up at Graham as I waited for him to speak.

Graham did not speak.

It was the ceasing of splashing at the sink that alerted me to the fact something was wrong. I looked up to see Morgan and Bo both standing still, the sink full of bubbles behind them, both staring at their father. Their faces wore identical expressions of anxious confusion, their shoulders tense. Frowning, I turned to look at Graham.

He was sitting slumped in a kitchen chair. His shoulders moved slowly as he inhaled, apparently out of breath. He had his back to me, but even from that position I could tell his face was white. He looked older, tired, frightened, almost vulnerable.

I rose to my feet, already walking towards him. I didn't speak. I didn't know what to say. Merrill turned at my movement and his gaze fastened on his brother's slumped figure. His eyes widened and he too got to his feet.

Graham's eyes were huge, his skin taut. He looked strange, off-balance, shell shocked, almost as though he'd been hit with a bat. He didn't speak. Neither did I. Neither did anyone.  
>What the hell had happened outside? What on earth had scared Graham this badly, so badly he apparently couldn't talk?<p>

Was it another sign? Another circle left in his fields? Or was it something else, another mysterious happening out in the crops of corn?

_What could be out there..._

I didn't ask. I didn't ask him what had happened, and even then I couldn't explain to myself why. I just knew I couldn't bring myself to do it.

There was a part of me that might not like the answer.

I don't know how much time passed as we stood there in silence. All I know is that slowly, very slowly, Graham's breathing calmed, some colour gradually returned to his cheeks, and his death grip on the back of the kitchen chair loosened slightly. He was getting back to normal-or as normal as anyone could be right now.

Slowly, Graham looked up at us, his eyes roving from one person to the next, finally coming to rest on the faces of his children. He licked his lips nervously, wetting them slightly. For one long moment, nobody spoke.

Then Graham opened his mouth. "OK." His voice was so soft I had to lean in slightly to hear him. Morgan and Bo stared, their eyes wide.

Graham leaned forward slightly. "Let's turn on the TV."

Morgan and Bo just about raced to the television in the family room, Morgan only stopping to carefully lower his book to the coffee table. I guessed being deprived of television for the day had taken its' toll on them. Me, I was just wondering what the hell had happened out there. Because something big had happened, perhaps something big enough to change Graham's mind about this whole thing. But something told me it was better not to ask.

Merrill slumped onto the couch and without thinking, I followed suit. Morgan and Bo were crouched in front of the TV, apparently grappling for the button. Graham moved to the couch but didn't sit down. He just stood, staring at the television.

Morgan pressed the button and the screen flickered into life, a dot of light slowly disappearing to give way to an image.

An announcer's voice filled the room. "..first appeared 52 minutes ago..."

Graham sank down onto the couch beside me, his face white. I stared at him for a minute, before realising that Graham's presence next to me meant I was slightly squashed. Between him and Merrill.

Which was actually kind of awkward.

But that particular thought was driven from my mind pretty quickly by the image on the screen. My own eyes widened as Morgan and Bo each stepped to one side, allowing us a clear view of the television.

A city at night was my first impression of the image being broadcast into the family room. There was the faint beeping of electronic devices in the background and for a moment, I imagined I could hear a familiar whine of static. But of far more concern to me, was the myriad of yellow lights floating in the deep blackness of the sky.

My mouth fell open and hung there, uselessly. Pointless action, but I couldn't think what else to do.

Good God.

The announcer's voice was continuing, even as the lights continued to hang ominously in the sky. "Mexico City officials-"

So that was the city.

"-and US officials have confirmed that these are not aircraft from either government's air force. The first sighting was made by an Air Mexico en route from Mazatlan to New York, as the unidentified crafts entered Mexico City airspace-"

I stared at the screen. Morgan and Bo were both standing utterly still. Both were watching the images avidly, utterly fascinated. Ah, well. Maybe this could count as educational.

"-they were not detected by radar by either country."

"The nerds were right." I looked around to see Merrill staring at the screen, his eyes wider than I had ever seen them. His face was pale.

Merrill thought the nerds were right. Things were getting serious.

"We have to tape this." Morgan was already heading for the shelves, as he finished his sentence, pulling at the videotapes there, obviously trying to find a blank one. No-one else moved. Bo stared at the screen, her face eerily lit by the TV light. She looked almost alien herself, as she stood illuminated by the unnatural glow of the screen.

Morgan moved back to the TV, a tape in his hands. I frowned. Even under the obviously exceptional circumstances, I noticed that the tape seemed to be covered in stickers of flowers.

Unfortunately, so did Bo.

"My ballet recital!" She grabbed for the video, and I saw Morgan wince-clearly, he had been hoping to sneak it into the player without his sister noticing. Bo pulled it to her chest, folding her arms around it protectively, like a mother with a newborn baby.

"Bo, honey, this is kind of an emergency-" I said as gently as possible, but Morgan was already speaking.

"Listen, Bo" he said, looking carefully into his little sister's eyes. "This is very important."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes there. Very important. A possible alien invasion, something which could conceivably change or end our lives forever, was described merely as _very important_.

Then again, he was only ten. And, then again, to criticise would be pretty pedantic, given the current circumstances.

Morgan was still speaking, still looking into Bo's eyes, clearly willing her to agree. "Everything people have written about in science books is about to change. The history of the world's future is on the TV right now." He stared at his sister desperately. "We need to record this so you can show your children this tape and say you were there." Beseechingly, he held out his hands, touching the tape his sister was still clutching fiercely to her chest. "For your children, Bo."

I stared at him.

OK, I took back that comment about Morgan being only ten years old. Bloody hell. How many ten-year-olds spoke like that? I knew Morgan was smart, but not _that_ smart.

And hopefully, his appeal would work. We couldn't afford to miss much more of this broadcast.

Bo stared at him for a second and I could see her weighing the odds in her head, as much as any four-year-old could. I watched as Bo made her decision. Her eyes were wide and I could see the enormity of the events was starting to sink in. One ballet performance versus the invasion of the world. There was really no question as to which it would be for Bo.

"My ballet recital!" Bo clung to the tape.

I had to laugh, even as Morgan rolled his eyes. "Dad!"

Graham shook his head. "Find another tape." Clearly, he was weighing the option of just giving in and finding another tape versus having to deal with a wailing, heartbroken Bo and probably miss the rest of the report in the struggle to get her tape into the player.

Morgan, with a huff of annoyance, headed for the shelves again. On the screen, the lights continued to hover, as apparently they had done for the last 52 minutes.

"Uncle Merrill, I'm using your tape." Morgan padded to the VCR and shoved the video in. I caught a brief glimpse of the label before the video disappeared into the machine; "Swimsuit Special."

Even in the seriousness of the moment, I had to stifle a snort of laughter. I just hoped Morgan wouldn't press the wrong button and play the video to the entire room. I would not want to be present for _that_ explanation.

Luckily, that didn't happen.

Morgan pressed the button and moved back slightly, giving himself a better view of the television screen. Bo too, backed away, moving towards the couch as Morgan sat down next to Merrill. The red light on the VCR flicked on; the tape was clearly recording.

I stared at the screen again. It was only then I realised-and it sounds stupid, I know-but how big a deal it was. Up until then, it had been something to laugh at. Something to have fun with. Something to joke about, because in the back of my mind, there'd always been a small nugget of certainty that this would turn out to be a hoax. That it was some idiots fooling around. That it would all blow over in the next few days, to be replaced by the next big fantastical news story, like Jesus appearing on a piece of toast, or an angel appearing on a movie screen. That kind of thing.

Now, though-well, there was this. And this, unless I was much mistaken, couldn't be argued with. This was something that was going to be pretty hard to explain. If this was a hoax, it was the biggest and most complicated hoax ever pulled off.

And if it wasn't-where did that leave us?

The newscaster's voice continued. "You are seeing a live feed from our affiliate down here in Mexico City." Bo had settled herself on her father's other side, her big eyes intent on the screen. Morgan sat on his uncle's right, his face absorbed, fascinated by the broadcast. I sat between Graham and Merrill, unable to look away from the screen.

The voice spoke again. "This image has not been adjusted or enhanced in any way. What you are seeing is real." I felt Merrill flinch beside me.

The newscaster seemed quieter now, as though he too, whoever he was, was awed by the events of the night. "It's unbelievable."

There was a short pause.

Almost as an afterthought, the newscaster spoke again. "Everything they wrote in science books is about to change."

I turned to Morgan. He'd just been pretty much parroted, word for word.

Morgan nodded in response to my look of disbelief. "See, I told you!" He raised his inhaler to his mouth and breathed in a puff of medicated air.

The lights hung in the sky, not moving, not falling. Just staying still, hovering. As though watching something. Watching us?

The TV screen flickered. The sofa creaked. All five of us sat very, very still and stared at the lights in the sky.

I don't know about the others. But to me, one thing seemed very clear.

No way could anyone call this a hoax anymore.

**Hope you enjoyed that! Please review if you liked it! Next chapter will be up soon!**


	7. Whispers in the Dark

**Well, here's Chapter 7! Hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much for all the great reviews, favourites, alerts-it means a lot!**

**The next chapter might be a little longer as I'm going on holiday for a week soon, but it will be up as soon as possible! Hope you enjoy!**

Next time I opened my eyes, the room was pitch black.

OK, no, it wasn't –that just sounded more dramatic. It _was_ pretty dark, though.

When I opened my lids a crack, just enough to peer through my lashes, the room was shadowed, the only light spilling from the small TV screen we watched so avidly. The sound was muted, low, but the screen was still filled with the same image-fourteen lights hovering in the sky with no explanation, no purpose and no cause that we could see. The sound of regular breathing came from either side of me; Morgan and Bo had obviously conked out some time ago. I wriggled slightly, mildly uncomfortable from sleeping upright.

And that's when I realised my head was lying on Merrill Hess' shoulder.

I froze, not daring to move in case I woke him up. Now what did I do? Because this was going to be one awkward conversation in the morning. "Hey, Merrill..yeah, I had a good night's sleep last night...yeah, it was pretty comfortable lying with my head on your shoulder.." Cue awkward silence followed by public and terminal humiliation forevermore. How the hell was I-

It was then I realised that stressing about the whole shoulder thing might actually be kind of stupid, given that the end of the world might be upon us and all. Somehow, they just didn't seem to reach the same level of importance.

So I just stayed still, lying where I was, letting my eyes drift shut again, allowing myself to float into a kind of half-sleep, a place filled with half-real dreams and half-imagined nightmares.

_I am standing in Dean Thompson's office, staring at my parents. My mother has her face buried in her hands, and my father has his arm around her shoulders. Dean Thompson stands to the side, shaking his head sadly, instead of being polite like any tactful, sensitive person and getting the hell out._

_I stand still. "What happened?" My voice is shrill, and I can feel myself starting to shake. I need Colleen now. I need her to calm me down. I need her.._

_But something's happened. And they're not telling me._

"_What happened to Colleen?" My voice is higher now, and my father stares at me. For one long moment, that's all he does. And I stare back, my heart pulsing in my chest, choked up with tight, hot fear._

_My father leans forward and buries his head in his hands. And that silences me, silences any sobs I may have had, because this is the most frightening thing I've seen since entering this room. My father never cries. Never._

_My voice, when I speak, is softer, quavering, pleading. "Daddy, what happened?"_

_My father takes a deep breath and raises his head. His eyes are red, but they are sandpaper dry._

_And when he speaks, his voice is somehow harsher and I flinch, as though physically struck. "Isabelle" he says, and I wait, wanting to close my eyes and wake up again, for this nightmare to be just that, a nightmare._

_My father clears his throat. "Isabelle, tonight-" He stops and closes his eyes for a moment, and I brace myself. But he swallows, opens his eyes, fixes his gaze on me and goes on. "Isabelle, tonight there was an accident."_

"Some people are probably thinking this is the end of the world."

The half-whisper yanked me back from my faded recollections, and it took me a second to remember to stay still and continue my pretence of sleep. But somehow, I managed. Though my ears were on high alert, raised and quivering for whatever words Merrill would say next.

It took a few moments for Graham to reply. "That's true."

Clearly, this wasn't what Merrill wanted to hear. Nor did I, come to that.  
>"Do you think it could be?" Merrill's whisper was hopeful, pleading-I could feel the answer he longed for in the air around him.<p>

Graham's answer was simple, direct and got straight to the point. "Yes."

Thanks, Graham. Really comforting idea.

Merrill apparently shared this viewpoint. "How can you say that?"

It took another few seconds before Graham answered. "That's not the answer you wanted?"

His words were like a sharp jab with a blade. I winced, unable to understand why they affected me so deeply, only knowing I hated the sound of them. It was like that moment in your childhood where you learn Santa Claus wasn't real; that everyone was lying to you all along and it was your parents leaving the presents under the tree. The same sensation of being set adrift, the same feeling of the world suddenly being slightly unstable beneath my feet. The curtain covering the truth falls down. No more sweetening the medicine. You're a big girl now.

And for some reason, that was kind of like a slap in the face.

Merrill shifted slightly next to me and I imagined I could almost feel his discomfort.

"Can't you pretend to be how you used to be?" His whisper wasn't a request. It was a plea. "Give me some comfort?" I could hear the desperation in his voice, the self-deprecation yet the burning need for reassurance, for someone to soothe the thoughts now echoing in everyone's minds.

Graham, again, didn't answer for a long moment. And I sat still, hushed, waiting just like Merrill, for some words, some comfort, some assurance that things were not as bad as they seemed, that there was some light ahead of us, if we only looked hard enough. Something Graham always used to tell us. Something he always used to tell me.

_I am twelve years old. It is early summer, with a thread of warmth in the air, and long twilights that foreshadow the ending of school, the beginning of long holidays and late nights, the beginning of freedom from grades and tests and jeering mouths. Summer. My favourite time of the year._

_From inside the house comes laughter, as my parents, Colleen and Graham watch the television, and talk about whatever adults find fascinating. I sit outside, my arms wrapped around my legs, strangely alone on the Hess farm, my sister's home these days._

_From inside the house comes a pealing wail-one-year-old Morgan is crying from his bedroom. There is a general chorus of cooing and voices dull slightly, as Colleen no doubt rushes upstairs to comfort him._

_I sigh, pull my knees up further. It's not that I'm jealous of Morgan. I'm not. I love the little baby. Sometimes, I sit him on my knee and chat away to him because he's the only one who doesn't understand anything I say, and so listens unconditionally. At least, that's what I think._

_Just sometimes, I want to be alone with my sister. I want to talk to her about what's happening at school at the moment. I want to tell her about how last Friday, Lionel Pritchard threw gum in my hair and Mum had to cut several strands of it out. I lied about what had happened, said I'd done it myself. She wasn't particularly impressed. Same with the bruise on my arm; I said I'd tripped over in Tag Ball. Well, what else could I tell them? I could hardly confide that Lionel Pritchard thought it was funny to trip me in the corridor, causing me to bash my elbow on the corner of the lockers. An action that won him a great deal of appreciation from the females among his twittering groupie hangers-on, including Tracey Abernathy._

_The only one I can tell that stuff to is Colleen._

"_Hey."_

_I look up to find Graham walking towards me. I stare, surprised. I thought no-one had missed me. I thought everyone was upstairs with Morgan._

"_Something wrong?" He walks right up and squats down beside me on the grass. I smile, surprised by the sudden turn of events. No other adult I know would come and sit down with me just to talk. No other adult would risk getting grass stains on their clothes._

_Apart from Colleen, of course._

_I shake my head. "Just tired." I never know how to explain it, this feeling. Tired and wrung out, lost, as though I've been running a thousand miles with no-one to cheer me on._

_Graham nods. "Well, I get that sometimes, too." We sit in silence for a moment, the crickets chirping in the background. I push my hair off my face-it has finally reached shoulder-length, thanks to months of avoiding haircuts, apart from the aforementioned gum incident. I want it longer, though. Long enough to fall in front of me when I walk, like a curtain. Long enough to hide behind when I need protection from the world._

_Graham stares at me, and sighs. "School bothering you?"_

_I nod reluctantly. Now he'll ask why and I'll have to tell him. And then he'll have to tell my parents. And even if they do nothing, don't go up to the school and drag out teachers and make such a huge fuss, I'll still feel guilty, ashamed, as though I'm the one to do something wrong._

_And, let's face it, I cause my parents enough problems already._

_I wait for the question._

_But it doesn't come. Instead, Graham just sits still next to me, staring at the sunset and not talking at all. And it's not awkward, either. It just feels-well-not a great vocabulary word, but nice. Relaxed. Like I don't have to try or come up with any excuses for how things are. They're just the way they are and it's not my fault._

_Graham sighs. "Morgan loves you, you know" he says unexpectedly. "He said your name the other day."_

_This is news. "He did?" I feel a smile break out across my face, just like I did the time I was the first to see Morgan crawl, his baby smile etched across his face as he pulled himself forward across the carpet towards me. Me, for a moment; nobody else._

_Graham nods and smiles. "Colleen didn't tell you?" When I shake my head, he shrugs. "Guess she was excited at seeing your mom and dad again. And you, too. She talks about you a lot."_

_There's nothing to say, but a huge smile blooms over my face. Graham's eyes grin with his lips at the effect of his words. Graham always appears so happy for everyone. I see him at church on Sundays and he's always smiling, always nodding, always willing to listen to anyone. Sometimes, I catch Colleen staring at him, a dreamy smile filling her eyes, and I think that says how she feels more than anything in the world, no matter how many times she tells him she loves him._

_Graham smiles at me. "Don't give up yet, Isabelle" he tells me. The words are unexpected, but strangely welcomed. My brother-in-law nods at me. "Everything's going to turn out OK. Just keep going. Things will get better. I promise."_

_I can't help it. "How do you know?" I blurt out the question that's always on my mind. "How do you know everything will get better? How does anyone know that?"_

_Graham doesn't lie to me. He doesn't look away. He doesn't get angry with me for questioning him. Instead, he just stares at me, looking me straight in the eye. _

"_I don't know, Isabelle" he says. "I can only hope." He smiles, a sad smile, a wish for something better. "Nobody can know, Isabelle. We can only hope for things to work out. And sometimes they won't." He shifts slightly, turning to face the last dying glow of the sunset. "But there's a lot of hope to be had."_

Sitting on the couch, I chanced a quick peek at Graham through my eyelashes. I saw him sitting still, his eyes focused dead ahead, his face worn, tired, battled. I stared at that man and I thought of the laughing eyes, the warm smile that had given me advice that long ago day in the grass by the farm while the sun sank slowly out of sight. I thought of that Graham, that man who I'd known as Graham Hess up until that night six months ago, when he vanished, seemingly forever.

I stared at Graham, wondering what happened to that man and whether it was ever possible to get him back again.

Graham turned to his brother and my eyes fell shut. I couldn't see but I could hear. I listened harder than I'd ever done in my life.

"People" and Graham's voice was just barely above a whisper. "Break down into two groups, when they experience something lucky." I held my breath, and the world felt strange, bated, waiting.

Graham's voice continued. "Group number one sees it as more than luck, more than coincidence. They see it as a sign...evidence that there is someone up there watching out for them."

Next to me, Merrill was absolutely still. He wasn't moving and if it hadn't been for the fact I could feel his chest rising and falling, I might have thought he was holding his breath. Keeping my eyes closed, I felt him shift position slightly next to me, and my own breath caught in my throat.

A second later, his arm slid down over my shoulder, his hand reaching round until the tips of his fingers stroked my hair.

I couldn't breathe, couldn't move. I prayed harder than I'd ever prayed in my life that I wouldn't give myself away, because something told me that if Merrill had known I was awake, there was not a chance in hell that he'd have put his arm around me the way he had now.

Graham was still speaking and trying to focus on anything but the feel of Merrill's skin, I listened. "Group number two sees it as just pure luck, a happy turn of chance."

The words stung, somehow. I wasn't sure why, but they hurt.

"I'm sure the people in group number two are looking at those fourteen lights in a very suspicious way." Graham's voice was low, measured and yet at the same time, jagged, unrehearsed. And somehow, that added to the authenticity of it all.

Graham continued to whisper. "For them, this situation is 50/50. Could be bad." I pictured him shrugging slightly."Could be good. But deep down, they feel that whatever happens, they're on their own." He paused for a second, before resuming his speech. "And that fills them with fear."

He stopped, and, peeking through my lashes again, I saw him staring straight ahead at the television. "Yeah" he said softly. "There are those people."

I let my eyes fall shut again. Yeah, there were those people. And sometimes, it was as though Graham wished he was one of them.

Wished. Maybe not quite there, yet.

"But there's a whole lot of people in the group number one." Graham's voice seemed to turn up now, like a curve, more hopeful and I felt my ears prick even more as I listened, determined to catch every word spoken. "When they see those fourteen lights-" he paused slightly. "-they're looking at a miracle."

The word shivered in the air, vibrations emanating, like a foreign object dropped into a previously undisturbed water.

Graham's voice continued like a soundtrack backbeat. "And deep down, they feel that whatever's going to happen-" I heard him draw a breath, as though gearing himself up for his next words, and even though I couldn't see, I could feel his gaze on Merrill and I. I waited for him to speak, and almost sensed him open his mouth.

"There will be someone there to help them."

"_Colleen!" I am small, five, six, and the sheets are twisted around my legs. My mouth opens in a shrill cry and I thrash against the bedclothes frantically. My sister's name falls from my lips again. "Colleen!" I am shivering, my body drenched in sweat._

_My door opens and behind it stands my sister. Home for the weekend, she runs to me, her nightdress brushing against her legs. "What's wrong, sweetie?" She reaches my bedside and drops to her knees, her hand reaching out to stroke the hair off my face. She flinches as her fingers come into contact with my skin. "You're boiling hot!"_

_I am shivering, my teeth chattering together. "I had a d-dream-"_

"_You've got a fever." Colleen lifts me into her arms, and without another word, pulls me from the bed, remembering to grab my favourite teddy as she does so. She carries me to the door, whispering comforting words in my ear, as she crosses the landing to her old bedroom, where she stays on these frequent visits._

_I am placed in her bed, my head nodding automatically. "Stay here" she whispers. "I'll be back in one second." She disappears onto the landing and I hear whispers-presumably, our mother will be awake. I lie still, breathing slower now, because Colleen has told me to wait here._

_And seconds later it seems, she is back, holding something in her hands. She bends down and places a cold flannel on my forehead, smoothing my hair back off my face. "Mom knows you're in here" she whispers. Her breath is sweet and cool on my cheek. "She heard you crying, too." She walks round and climbs into bed beside me. "Here, open your mouth." As I part my lips, she slides in a thermometer. I wriggle, accustomed to the discomfort of thermometers.  
>Colleen soothes me. "It's OK. Just for a minute, sweetheart."<em>

_It is three minutes and they seem interminable, but Colleen murmurs into my hair and shushes me, and somehow they go by faster. Still, it seems an eternity before she finally sits up and removes the thermometer from my mouth.  
>"A hundred and one degrees" she whispers. "Poor little Isabelle. You've got a fever." She pulls me close. "Want to stay here, tonight?" <em>

_I nod, my mind swimming and my head falls onto her shoulder. Colleen cuddles me close, climbing under the sheets, and reaching out, switches on her bedside lamp. "Do you want to go straight to sleep?"_

_I shake my head. "Read to me." It is a demand, not a request. You can get away with that sort of thing when you're ill._

_Colleen smiles and holds up the book she pulled from my bedside table, proving once again how well she knows me. Without another word, she opens the book to the first page. "Chapter One, The-"_

_I pull at her arm. "Colleen."_

_My sister turns and looks at me, quietly. I stare up into her eyes._

"_You won't ever go away, right?"  
>Colleen shakes her head, her eyes widening. "No way. Ever. OK?"<em>

_I wait._

_Colleen continues. "I mean, I don't live at home now, but I'll always be near. I'll never leave you on your own. OK?"_

_I nod. Colleen pulls me close to her. "I mean it, Isabelle. I'll always be here to help. I'll always be here if you need me. Always."_

_I nod once more, suddenly too tired to speak. But Colleen seems to understand. With a quick kiss to the top of my head, she pulls me closer and begins to read. "Chapter One."  
>As I listen, I'm not always concentrating on the story. I'm thinking about her last words and how they echo in my head. I'm wondering how anyone can ever know if they're true. <em>

_I'm wondering if Colleen is as certain as she seems._

"_I'll always be here if you need me. Always."_

Sitting on the couch, there was a long moment of silence. Merrill's breathing had slowed, and next to me, he was stiller than I would have ever thought possible. I, myself, was busy thinking about that promise-that there will always be someone there for you. I'd heard that promise once before.

And I'd seen what becomes of it.

Graham's voice continued, slightly rushed, as though wanting the words to pour out as quickly as possible, as though he didn't want them to languish in his mouth any longer than necessary. "And that fills them with hope." He paused for a moment and even though I couldn't see, I could almost feel his stare, fierce in its' intensity. "So what you have to ask yourself is what type of person are you? Are you the kind who sees signs, sees miracles? Or do you believe that people just get lucky?"

You could have heard a pin drop in the silence.

"Or.." and I felt Graham lean closer. "Look at the question this way. Is it possible that there are no coincidences?"

I barely breathed in the moment of silence that followed.

Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. I could almost hear our separate thoughts in the darkness, Graham's words absorbed and digested by our collective cognition.

What did I believe?

Six months ago, I wouldn't have had a doubt. But now-

I hadn't changed the way Graham had. I did not now think of God as a four-letter word.

But I'd be lying if I said it was exactly the same either.

The room had grown so quiet that, listening hard I could hear the soft pulsing of blood through veins, a slow, constant beat of life through the darkness. I couldn't tell if I was hearing Merrill's heart or my own. Lying as I was, with my cheek pressed against the skin of his neck-I had to work hard to keep my breathing steady-I could feel the drumbeat under his skin, the steady push of blood through his body. I stayed as still as possible, praying the sudden rush of heat to my cheeks wouldn't give me away.

When Merrill spoke, his voice was hushed, a low whisper. He shifted slightly, accidentally-perhaps-bringing me closer to him. "I was at this party once" he murmured, and his breath tickled my hair as he spoke. "I'm on the couch with Randa Mckinney-"

Yes, it was illogical. It was irrational. We were in the middle of an alien invasion, for God's sake. This was not the time to start getting all possessive of somebody I'd only met forty-eight hours ago.

But, what the hell. I never claimed to be perfect.

Yeah, I didn't even know Randa McKinney. But the second I heard her name, I kind of hated her.

Merrill made a strange clicking sound with his teeth. God knows what he meant, but I presumed it was intended to indicate attraction to the thus far unknown Randa McKinney. My completely unwarranted dislike intensified.

Merrill sighed softly and I stiffened slightly. "She was just sitting there, looking beautiful and staring at me..."

I'd only heard this girl's name two minutes ago and she had already risen right to the top of my Hate List. A considerable achievement, given that we'd never met and the only thing I knew about her was her name.

And that she'd apparently gone after Merrill way before I'd ever set eyes on him.

I gritted my teeth.

"I go to lean in and kiss her.."

I had to exercise a serious amount of self-control not to leap up off the couch because, God help me, the last thing I needed was to hear the guy I liked describe how it felt kissing another girl. That sort of thing could land me in therapy for years.

Merrill, completely unaware of my discomfort, laughed softly. "And I realise I have gum in my mouth. So I turn, take out the gum, stuff it in a paper cup next to the sofa..."

Scintillating. But I was too unreasonably wound up to be sarcastic.

"And turn around..."

Oh God, did I really want to hear the next bit-  
>Merrill paused for a moment and I waited, eyes tightly shut. "Randa McKinney throws up all over herself."<p>

I had to exercise every ounce of self-restraint I possessed not to immediately burst out laughing.

Yeah, it was pretty cruel. I didn't care.

Perfect.

Beside me, Merrill was still talking and fighting to keep all traces of a grin off my face, I listened. "I knew the second it happened it was a miracle. I could have been kissing her when she threw up." He paused, apparently to let the potential horror of this scenario sink in. "It would have scarred me for life." He shook his head slightly-I could feel the movement from where my head lay on his shoulder. "I may never have recovered."

It was then that it dawned on me that this was Merrill's miracle. This was the thing that had convinced him of God's existence (or whatever you wanted to call it.) This was the thing that had shaped his faith.

His life-changing, mind-altering epiphany had been not kissing a girl whilst she threw up. The presence of a piece of gum in his mouth had been the catalyst for the formation of his faith in God.

What the hell could you say to that?

Beside me, Merrill sighed slightly, and I almost thought I could feel his smile. "I'm a miracle man." He moved slightly and I moved with him, my head falling even further onto his shoulder. His head turned towards his brother and once again, I felt his breath tickle my cheek. Goosebumps rose on my skin. "Those lights are a miracle."

I could hear Graham's smile in his voice. "There you go."

I knew that there was an alien invasion going on and this was some pretty serious stuff, and Merrill had just made a pretty important statement about his faith and yeah, I understood all of that. But for a few seconds, all I could think about was how close Merrill's mouth was to mine and how easy it would be to close those last few centimetres between us, and exactly how it would feel to do that...

I wasn't going to, of course. Of course I wasn't. Not now.

But I still couldn't stop thinking about it.

There was a long silence-the latest of many long silences that had occurred that evening. I didn't mind this one so much, though. My mind was still distracted, my imagination busy with different scenarios, different details...

It was then I became aware that this long silence was lasting a lot longer than usual. In fact, at least, two or three minutes must have gone by, which was a pretty long time to sit without talking. I was beginning to wonder if the conversation was finished for tonight and if maybe I should try to nod off again, when Merrill's voice whispered across my cheek. "What?"

A moment passed before I heard Graham's soft reply. "She's pretty out of it, isn't she?" It took me another moment to realise he meant me.

Merrill shifted slightly in his seat. "I guess so. Don't know what time she fell asleep, though."

Graham sat silently for a moment. I heard him sigh once in the darkness, a soft exhalation of an emotion I couldn't decipher. "She looks pretty comfortable there, doesn't she?"

Merrill stiffened slightly next to me. When it came, his reply was guarded, cautious. "I guess so."

Another second of silence passed. Then,

"What?" Merrill's whisper was slightly fiercer this time, more indignant. But it sounded strange, forced, as though his heart wasn't in it.

Graham chuckled softly to himself, and for a moment, I thought he wasn't going to reply. Part of me hoped he wouldn't-already I was struggling to slow my heartbeat, as it raged out of control. I waited, still struggling to keep my breathing as slow and regular as possible.

Graham's voice was soft, hushed, gentle. "Come on, Merrill. You think I don't see the way you look at her?"

My heart was now throwing itself against my chest wall so hard, I thought something might explode.

Merrill sat still, silent. For a moment, I thought he wasn't going to reply. Then,

"What do you mean? I-" But there was no real force behind the whisper. It didn't even convince me.

I could almost hear Graham smiling. "You know what I mean."

Merrill was completely still. From my vantage point against his shoulder, I could feel his pulse through his skin-something that in itself, was making me light-headed. And from what I could feel, his heart was racing as hard as mine.

Graham's voice cut into my thoughts, quiet amusement in every word. "Come on, Merrill. You can't tear your eyes away from her. You haven't been able to since the second she got here."

The temperature of Merrill's skin was increasing by faint degrees against my cheek. I was having a seriously difficult time keeping my breathing regular. _Oh my God. Oh my God._

I was sitting on the couch between my brother-in-law and a guy I-I admitted it-seriously, seriously liked, with my niece and nephew asleep on each side of us, listening to my brother-in-law discuss how much I liked said guy I liked with said guy I liked who also happened to be his brother and on the TV they were announcing aliens could be landing and, oh my God had the world been flipped on its' head, and what was going on and oh my_ word_, this was just too surreal and flipping _heck, I had to pretend to be asleep throughout this whole freaking conversation_!

You can probably gather that my thoughts were a little tangled. I took deep breaths-as inconspicuously as possible-and tried to stay calm. _You're asleep, Isabelle. You're asleep. You're a cloud, floating in the sky.._

Yeah, and I could just as easily be a chocolate wrapper landing in the kitchen garbage bin. Shut up, voice and let me concentrate on the conversation.

I could tell Graham was grinning just by the tone of his voice. "Vice versa for her, too."

I heard Merrill's breath catch slightly in the darkness. I froze, unable to move now if I wanted to.

Graham's voice continued, softly through the dark. "She hasn't been able to keep her eyes off you. Trust me." A brief moment of silence hung in the air. Graham's voice came again, in a low whisper. "Come on, Merrill. It wasn't too difficult putting the dots together."

Another moment of silence.

Then Merrill's voice, low and slightly muffled. "That obvious, huh?"

Graham's low chuckle sounded softly in reply. "Even the kids are picking up on it."

The blood rushed to my cheeks again. _I'll say._

But mostly, all I could think about was trying to calm my heart rate, trying-even more desperately now-not to give myself away. Because, trust me, this would be one awkward moment to interrupt.

"Merrill." Graham's voice was serious now, more guarded. "Be careful, okay?"

A moment passed before Merrill answered, sounding slightly bewildered. "With what?"

I heard Graham sigh. "Be careful with Isabelle. I know she's-" I thought I heard him swallow slightly. "I know she's an adult but-she's had a hard time. And-" He swallowed again. "Things haven't always been-easy for her. So, just-" He sighed. "Be careful, OK? If the two of you start-" He swallowed yet again. "Going out or whatever-" Another sigh. "Look after her, Merrill. If you are-interested in her-look after her. She's-"

_Thanks, Graham. You've made me sound like a right special snowflake._

Graham sighed audibly-_again_- through the darkness. "I've known her since she was nine. She's like a kid to me. My own kid. I just don't want her getting hurt-"

Steady on there, Graham. Merrill and I hadn't even been on a date yet and already he was worrying about us possibly breaking up? He'd be walking us down the aisle next.

Merrill's whispered reply was fierce against my cheek. "I wouldn't do that." I felt him shake his head slightly, his chin almost brushing my face. "I wouldn't do that to her, Graham."

And then his arm slowly slipped around my back.

Thank God I was feigning sleep at the time, because God knows I had no idea how to react. All I could do was keep my breathing steady and my body still while my mind turned cartwheels over the warmth of his arm around me and how gentle he felt and how protective and strong and-

Graham was speaking again. I willed myself to forget my thoughts for a moment.

"I know you wouldn't." He fell silent for a moment. Then he took a breath, as though steeling himself up to say something difficult. "Look, Merrill, I know you've only known her two days-"

"Yeah?" Merrill's arm seemed to tighten around me slightly, protectively.

"And I know you don't know her that well-"

"And?" No doubt about it, Merrill's arm definitely tightened around me this time, and for a moment I thought my heart might stop.

"Well-"Graham sighed. "It's just-the way you look at her. I can't help noticing-it's kind of-different from how you-you know-looked at other girls you've been with, you've dated. It's more-" I felt a movement as if Graham was waving his hand in an ambiguous gesture. "Intense. It's just-" He sighed again.

"What?" Merrill's tone was defensive, sharp. His voice was slightly louder. "What are you trying to say?"

A second of silence passed and when Graham spoke, I was surprised to hear from his tone that he was smiling. "Nothing bad. Just-" Graham seemed to turn in his seat slightly. "I get the feeling that-you don't just-_like_ Isabelle. You-" For a moment, he seemed to struggle to find the words. "You care about her" he finished simply, the words falling off his lips and into his younger brother's lap.

Well, if he liked me, I kind of hoped he'd care about me. Wasn't that the whole point of liking someone?

Merrill's reply was short but pretty sweet at the same time. "Yeah, I do" he whispered, his arm sliding further around me as he spoke.

Yeah, I know there was an alien invasion going on and all, but somehow that wasn't at the forefront of my mind right at that moment in time. All I could think about was Merrill and his words and the feel of his arm around me, and..

Graham's reply drifted through the darkness, interrupting my thoughts. "There you go." I could hear the smile in his voice, and from lying against his shoulder, I could hear the rapid pulse under Merrill's skin, a beat that seemed to be quickening every moment. It was a struggle to keep myself still by that point. A real struggle.

"Graham." Merrill's voice was hushed, his words a whisper against my cheek. I lay still, my heart thudding against my chest, blood racing to my skin.

"What?"

"It's just-" Merrill seemed to be struggling for words. "I-"

Graham didn't interrupt. He didn't ask him what was wrong. He just sat calmly and waited for his brother to speak. Exactly the way he always had done for me.

"It's-I-" I could almost feel Merrill deflating as he lost the words for what he wanted to say. He sighed softly, and his arm pulled me slightly closer. "Sometimes-God, this sounds stupid" he sighed. "But sometimes-it sounds weird, but sometimes, I look at her and wonder what the hell she's thinking."

I froze, feeling myself wince at his words. They stung like a slap in the face.

Graham seemed to be thinking along similar lines. He didn't say anything but he shifted slightly, turning towards Merrill and a strange kind of disapproval seemed to emanate from him, as he waited for his brother to speak.

Apparently, Merrill also picked up on this.

"Not in a bad way" he added hurriedly. I felt myself relax, bizarrely relieved from his words. "Just-I've only known her two days but she seems kind of-lost, sometimes. In her own world. It's-kind of-" He swallowed. "Sometimes, I'm staring at her and I wonder where her mind goes" he finished softly, the words hushed, low, difficult to catch. "She doesn't always look happy."  
>Graham's sigh was louder than I would have expected. "No, she doesn't."<p>

"I mean, it's not a surprise." Merrill's voice was more confident now, more self-assured. "Since, you know-" He hesitated, the way everyone did when Colleen's name fell into the air these days. "Colleen" he eventually muttered, and I felt his head lower slightly, as though worried that he'd offended his brother in some way.

Graham tensed. But if he was affected by hearing my sister's name, that was the only sign he gave. "Go on."  
>"I just-" Merrill seemed embarrassed now, awkward, as though wanting to end the conversation as soon as possible. "I just wondered if it might be-this thought thing you talked about a couple of times."<p>

I froze, again. Yep. Here we went. The moment that Merrill might well decide I was a total freak and not worth bothering with.

It's not as though I'd have blamed him. Enough people had done it in the past.

Graham's sigh, once again, seemed to echo through the darkness. "Her thought thing." His voice was soft, thoughtful, wondering. "Yep, I guess it might be."

"I mean, she was talking about it a bit earlier." Merrill's voice was stronger now, more defensive. "When you were outside, feeding Isabel. She-" Merrill laughed softly. "_This_ Isabelle, _not_ the one outside, was saying something about-about going to a shrink when she was younger." His voice faded away by the end of the sentence, his head lowering again. I winced.

Graham sighed. Seriously, it seemed to be becoming a tic with him. "Yeah, she did. For a while."

"Right." Merrill's voice was muffled, his head low. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with it, it's just-" He sighed. Why was everyone sighing all of a sudden? "She just looks kind of-I don't know-dreamy sometimes. Wistful. That kind of thing."

A moment of silence passed, before I heard Graham's low chuckle through the darkness. "Wistful?"

Merrill's laugh sounded, so close to my ear I almost jumped. "Yeah, I know-"  
>"I thought for a minute, you were about to jump into writing poetry or something-"<br>Their laughter was low, muffled, but it was laughter, and for the first time since the news reports had first aired that evening, I felt myself relax.

Merrill was the first to stop, his laughter dying down, until his lips once again formed a soft whisper. "I wouldn't hurt her, Graham."

A warm finger stroked the side of my face and my heartbeat rioted out of control. It took a lot of restraint to keep my breathing regular as Merrill moved his hand to a strand of hair-probably the same one he'd had to fix earlier-and tucked it gently behind my ear. His fingers lingered on my skin for a moment, warmer than I expected, tracing a quick smooth pattern so vivid, I half-expected to find it branded on my cheek the next morning.

Graham cleared his throat and Merrill's hand leapt away.

"Sorry." He didn't sound sorry. In fact, I could hear by Merrill's voice he was grinning.

Graham, sitting next to me, merely shook his head. But the soft chuckle that sounded in his throat told me he wasn't annoyed and I'd have bet my Harry Potter novels he too was sitting there, grinning into the dark.

A long moment passed. I sat very still, my heart pounding.

Well, where the hell did I go with Merrill from here?

I mean, OK, I was thrilled. I was great. I was over the moon that Merrill liked me. Because, OK, let's be honest-I'd pretty much liked him from the moment I saw him.

Well, not straight away. I mean, yeah, I found him attractive, but what I really liked was his personality. I mean-

But I digressed. The point was-weren't things going to be kind of awkward tomorrow? I mean, what did I do? Get up in the morning and pretend I'd never heard the conversation? Pretend the whole thing had never happened? How awkward would talking to Merrill be then?

And what about the other options?

Before I could even begin going through the other alternatives, my brain raced ahead of me, and blood rushed-yet again-to my cheeks at the considerably detailed thoughts of where those other choices could_ lead_.

Honestly. What the hell was going to happen the next day?

Still, it shouldn't be too difficult coming up with something to talk about. Not with something like, I don't know, aliens taking over the world. That could prove a conversation starter, I supposed.

Mentally shaking my worries out of my head, I let my mind drift again. I'd think about all the other stuff in the morning. Because, right now, the most important thing seemed to be, to replay the entirety of Merrill and Graham's conversation in my head. Lingering on certain parts.

And of course, listening to my brain turn somersaults, while screaming pathetically "Merrill likes me! Merrill likes me!" like something out of a bad teenage fantasy novel.

Still..  
>Merrill <em>liked<em> me... _Merrill_ liked me...

"So which type are you?"

I almost jumped at the sound of Merrill's voice, so close to my ear, before realising that since he had no idea I was awake, he was pretty unlikely to be talking to me.

Apparently, Graham shared my moment of confusion. "Which type am I what?"

Merrill's answer was soft, his voice lowered. "Group one or group two?"

Graham became very still, and I held my breath, waiting for his response. Even with my eyes closed as tight as possible, I could feel his gaze through the darkness, focused on his younger brother.

"Do you feel comforted?" Graham's voice was guarded, cautious, careful, allowing only the barest glimpse into his emotions.

The briefest of seconds passed before Merrill's voice whispered in reply. "Yeah, I do."  
>"Then what does it matter?"<p>

I think Graham intended his remark to sound casual, careless, as though he was blowing the whole matter away. But to me, it came out sounding slightly desperate, a plea for his brother to forget the whole thing, to stop questioning him, to ignore the answer he'd rather not think about.

Merrill sighed once, but he did not pursue the subject.

Another moment of silence passed and I lay still, my heart thudding against my ribs. How the hell was I supposed to get to-

Graham's voice was tight, determined, and for some reason a chill sneaked up my spine. "I never told you the last words Colleen said before- they let her die."

My heart just about stopped.

_I don't cry. I can't cry and I don't know why. My sister is dead. My sister is dead. I peer into the mirror at myself, dressed in black, my face quite calm, if a little shell-shocked and I wonder why I don't look more shattered. _

_My sister is dead. My sister is dead._

_But the words have about as much impact as an alphabet recitation. And I wonder why I can't feel anything. _

_Today is my sister's funeral. And I can't feel anything. _

_How screwed-up is that?_

__I was frozen. I couldn't have spoken then if I'd tried. All I could feel was my own heartbeat, my own ears straining for the answer. And all I could do was wait.

Graham shifted slightly and I could feel his stare, hard, unflinching, focused on his brother and I.

Merrill, sitting next to me, was still, motionless, completely silent. Slowly, he shook his head.

Graham carried on, his eyes determined, his words like sharp jabs that at the same time offered a small blanket of comfort. "She said 'See'-"

My chest was tight and for the first time, I understood a tiny bit of what Morgan said when he talked about his asthma attacks. How you felt as though you could not breathe, would never breathe again, even though air was just a gasp away.

Graham's voice continued, unyielding in the darkness. "And her eyes glazed a bit-and then she said 'Swing away.'"

Merrill was frozen next to me. His heart beat rapidly against his skin and mine and for a few seconds, his breathing seemed silent, almost non-existent.

Even with my eyes closed I could feel Graham's eyes, watching his brother. "Do you know why she said that?"

A second passed before I felt Merrill's head shake in reply.  
><em>Graham sighs and stares at me. I don't know quite how old I am; only that he and my sister sit either side of me, handing me tissues and toddler Morgan patters across the rug in front of us, only to occasionally run towards me at baby-speed and bury his face in my shoulder in a clumsy hug, with heartfelt exhortations of "Don't cwy."<em>

_I can't remember what set me off today at school; only that the weekend ahead is all that kept me going these past few days and now that it's here, it feels strange to be crying. I never cry. Not now._

_Colleen wraps me in a hug and Graham pats my shoulder, encouraging me with a nod to drink the tea he made, while Colleen sat in here, her arms around Morgan and I. I am calmer now, calm enough to take a shaky sip._

_I love that neither of them has asked me what is wrong; that neither has demanded I tell them the problem so that they can sort it out, clear away any trouble like so much dust under a carpet. _

_I lean into Colleen's shoulder, relishing the silence for a few moments._

_It is Graham who breaks it. "It'll be okay, Isabelle."_

_I stare at him, one eyebrow raised. _

_He chuckles softly. "Yeah, I know. Don't look at me like that. It doesn't seem like that right now. But things will get better." He sighs and pats my head gently, a slightly clumsy gesture of affection. "You've got us. And, remember what I was saying last week-" He laughs and so do I, remembering the last words of his sermon from the pulpit. "Maybe everything happens for a reason."_

_Not sure I believe that-I mean what about murder, suicide, torture? What reason can there be for those?_

_But the thought that there might be a reason for some stuff conjures up a slight smile. After all, whenever I've listened to Graham in the past, he often turns out to be right._

Graham's voice was insistent, relentless through the night. "Because the nerve endings in her brain were firing as she died, and some random memory of us at one of your baseball games popped into her head."

His words shattered the illusion of any reverence, any gentleness about my sister's last moments on this planet. All there was was the blunt reality.

She got hit by a car and it killed her. That's all there was to it.

_Graham's laugh breaks into my thoughts about reasons. "And it's not as though you're on your own, Isabelle. You've got us."_

_Colleen laughs. "How's that supposed to cheer her up?"_

_Graham pretends to hit her with a cushion and the two break into laughter, as does Morgan who stands watching his parents play fight. I laugh, too, watching them, my mind replaying Graham's last words._

"_Seriously, Isabelle" Graham smiles, ruffling my hair in a gesture that I'd usually find patronising, but here, just feels happy, gentle. "It's okay. You'll never be on your own."_

_You'll never be on your own.._

_Never..._

Graham's voice was harsh, jagged, breaking down any boundaries of dreams or memories. "There is no one looking out for us, Merrill. We are all on our own."

I flinched at the words, unable to help myself. But it didn't matter. Nobody was looking.

A silence fell and something told me this time, the conversation was really finished. With my eyes shut, I lay still and stared at the warm darkness behind my lids.

_We are all on our own._

_We are all on our own._

The television light flickered beyond my eyelids. My head nestled further into Merrill's shoulder. The children's breathing punctuated the seconds.

You couldn't say it hadn't been an interesting night.

**Hope you enjoyed that! Please review!**


	8. Learning to Fall

**Hi everyone! I'm so sorry it's been so long! I was away for a week, which made things a bit more difficult! But this chapter's longer to make up for it! This chapter might show up in a different font than the others, I don't know. Apologies if it does!**

**Hope you enjoy it and thanks for all the amazing feedback! Everyone who reads this, favourited it, put it on alert or wrote a review-thanks! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and I'll try to get the next one up quicker!**

**Enjoy! I don't own any character apart from Isabelle and her parents. :)I don't own Signs *makes sad face***

Unsurprisingly, it took me a little while to get back to sleep.

By "a little while" I mean, about three hours.

But I couldn't help it. I mean, I'd had a pretty interesting night. And my head was a little busy.

Which wasn't helped by the fact my head was lying on Merrill's shoulder, my skin brushing his, the heat of his neck prickling mine, and his arm soft around my shoulders, his hand skimming mine...

Yeah, it took me a little while to get to sleep.

But somehow, eventually, as the shadows were shortening, and the first rays of early-morning light were creeping into the room, I must have slept.

_I watch as he is brought into the room. His head is bent low, his eyes guarded, shielded and I stare at him, wondering how someone so forgettable, so everyday, so ordinary, could cause such fallout._

_Ray Reddy is led into the room and I cannot look away._

_This is the man who nursed my hamster back to health when I was six and had cried for three days over its' cage. This is the man who patted my shoulder as I wept when I found my rabbit dead in its' hutch at age twelve. This is the man who fell asleep driving and swerved off the road, slamming into my sister and cutting her in half when I was twenty. _

_Bit of a difference with the last one._

_I stare at Ray Reddy and wonder how my gaze doesn't burn him._

My eyes flickered open.

The room was brilliant with sunlight. My head was lying on the arm of the couch, my neck stretched at a slightly awkward angle, causing me to wince as I sat up, lifting a hand to my forehead. I grimaced at the light shining onto my face, my eyes squeezing shut again automatically, protecting themselves from the mid-morning glow. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear a faint ringing and voices, rising and falling, clashing against each other.

Sighing, I flopped back down on the couch, letting my eyes flicker shut again. Maybe I'd just drift back into sleep...

Somewhere, the ringing stopped. I sent up a silent prayer of relief, and rolled over, turning round to face the television.

The television was gone.

For a second, I lay there, staring stupidly at the empty spot where the TV usually resided, as though expecting it to reappear.

Slowly, cautiously, I got to my feet, wondering what had happened and wishing I could have ingested some caffeine before dealing with the first mystery of the day. What was going on?

I took a step back towards the couch and almost sat on somebody. Two surprises in five minutes.

It was only the slight groan of sleep behind me that tipped me off. I jumped about three feet in the air.

Graham too, was lying on the couch. His eyes were closed and his head lay on an arm, with a cushion beneath it. Not surprising. I supposed sitting up with your brother into the small hours discussing his love life could do that to you. Slowly, I sank down into a sitting position, watching him cautiously, wondering if he'd woken up..

"Isabelle?" Merrill was standing in the doorway, staring at me.

I jumped slightly. Just be cool, Isabelle. Just be...

I slid off the couch and landed on the floor. Brilliant.

I was having quite a morning.

"You OK?"

Yeah, I was great. Could I not go five minutes without making a fool of myself in front of Merrill? "Yeah" I muttered, taking Merrill's proffered hand and pulling myself upright. Merrill's arm slid around my shoulders, helping me up and criminally increasing my heart rate. His lips were pressed together in a carefully blank expression, but his eyes shone with suppressed laughter.

I glared at the floor, as though it was the sole root of all my problems.

"Your mom's on the phone-" Merrill held out the receiver. "She said she wants to speak to you.."

I groaned. If my mother wanted to speak to me, it meant I could be on the phone for a good three hours, trying to ignore her, while leaning against a wall and counting the minutes of my life wasted by the pointless conversation that generally ended the same way-with the two of us yelling or otherwise, infuriated with each other.

I loved her, but I preferred not to speak to her. Especially not first thing in the morning.

Reluctantly, I took the receiver from Merrill with a nod of thanks and walked to the door.

"Hi, Mom" I muttered, slumping against the doorframe and calculating how long it would take me to soothe her worries and get her off the other end of the phone. I was already getting into my stride. I wandered into the hallway, leaning against the staircase.

"Very enthusiastic, Isabelle." My mother's voice did not sound particularly affected by my obvious lack of interest in speaking to her. "How is everything?"

"Fine, I guess" I sighed, rubbing my nose with one finger in an attempt to distract myself from the phone call. Just answer all the questions and be done. That's all.

Standing beside the stairs, I turned and jumped as I found Merrill standing right beside me.

He raised his hands in a quick gesture of mock surrender. "Sorry" he mouthed, backing away down the hall. Some part of my brain dully noted that this was the third time Merrill had apologised for scaring me in the last three days. It was getting to be a little habit.

Merrill turned and disappeared into the closet under the stairs.

In the time it took me to blink and stare after him like a slightly confused squirrel, my mother had gotten impatient.  
>"Isabelle? Are you still there?"<p>

I shook my head slightly. "Yeah, Mom, I'm just-" I shook my head again, in an attempt at clearing it. By the way, let me just say that that head-shaking trick does not clear your head at all. It just makes you dizzy.

"I'm just tired-I had a late night. Did you-" I paused on the words. _Did you see the news?_ was what I wanted to ask. _Do you believe me now? _was what I longed to know all along.

"Did I what, Isabelle?" My mother's voice was slightly crisp, slightly abrupt, as though she too, found the conversation strained, tense, uncomfortable. Almost as though we were two actors, playing at being mother and daughter. Playing for years, but never getting it quite right.

I took a deep breath, waiting for my mother to brush off my next comment. "Did you see the news?" I waited, gripping the phone to my cheek. It dug into the flesh, and I winced, imagining walking around with a phone-shaped imprint on my face for the rest of my life.

My mother paused for a second. "Yes. Yes, I-" She paused again, apparently unsure of what to say. "I saw the news" she finished.

Well, that was clear as mud.

She said nothing. I said nothing, just to be annoying.

"So?" I asked, eventually. I hated pauses in conversations-I never knew how to fill them. "What did you think? About-the lights, and-"

My mother's sigh was audible before I'd finished my sentence. "Isabelle, I-" I could picture her standing still, her hand clutched to her forehead as she closed her eyes in thought. It was her usual expression when she was dealing with something difficult, something worrying-something she couldn't explain, couldn't decipher-couldn't control. It was the expression she wore when dealing with me.

And somehow, that pissed me off.

"What? What, Mom? What do you think it was? Some hoax? Some stupid prank?" I could feel my voice rising, her refusal to admit she'd been wrong, that it was more than a hoax, more than a prank, boiling in my chest. My teeth ground into each other, my hand gripping the phone tighter. "Some joke? Or do you think I'm imagining it? Like when I was little and you used to yell-"

"Isabelle, calm down-"  
>"Why should I calm down, Mom? There's a freaking alien invasion going on, I think I'm entitled-"<p>

"Oh, don't be so dramatic-"  
>"What, Mom? You still haven't said anything yet. What can it be? What is it if it's not aliens? What is it? Tell me-"<p>

"It could be anything. It could be an optical illusion-"

I snorted with laughter, fire burning in my chest. "Oh, yeah, Mom, that's why the government's involved." I had no idea if the government was involved or not but it sounded good. And what the hell, I was tired. I was pacing around the hall, resisting the urge to slam my hand into the wall.

"It could be a hoax-"

"Oh for God's sake, Mom. How the hell would anyone pull something like this off? They'd have to reincarnate freaking Einstein-"

"Please stop using the word "freaking", Isabelle. It sounds very-"  
>An alien invasion going on and my mother was worrying about my language. I had to give her credit, she was getting on my nerves even more than usual. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall, tuning out her voice temporarily.<p>

"Very sorry to disappoint you, Mom. But to be honest, I've got a little more to worry about than your language concerns. There's a good chance we'll all be dead by tomorrow morning-" As was evident, I was presenting a very optimistic viewpoint on the matter.

"Isabelle, don't be silly-"

I gritted my teeth, my mind sweeping back over the years. Yes, I was overreacting. I knew that. Part of me relished it.

But how many times?How many times had I heard something like that? And it always had the same effect.

"_Isabelle, come on."_

_I shake my head._

_My father grits his teeth. "Come on."_

_I can't. I have to be careful. I can't step on a crack._

_I move forward, inching, like a turtle with a wounded leg._

_My mother sighs. "Isabelle.."_

_Colleen shushes her. "Mom, don't-"_

_My father has had enough. "Stop it!"_

_I shake my head, feel my own teeth grit. Mommy says I have inherited my father's temper._

_My father takes a step toward me. "Stop it!" He grabs my wrist._

_Colleen and my mother both start forward, but I am already off._

_My mouth opens in a shriek, a tide of fury drowning my brain. I throw myself to the ground, and even in the midst of my terror, I register that I'm lying on cracks, which makes me shriek even more._

_My father buries his head in his hands, as Colleen kneels at my side. "Isabelle..."_

"_I'm sick of this." My father's voice cracks. "I'm sick of it." I think he will walk away, but instead he stands over me, staring down at my thrashing body beneath. My mother crouches down, too, but makes no move to touch me. Instead, she stays still, staring at me, as though I am some strange animal she has never seen before._

_It's my fault everything's going wrong. A wave of terror and fury and horror, all mixed together, pours through me and I close my eyes and shriek..._

I sat still, feeling my head swim, that same tide pouring through me now, just as strong as ever and perhaps more vehement.

Perhaps my mother sensed it, too. "Isabelle, calm down. I didn't mean to-I just wanted-"  
>"What, Mom? You just wanted what?" But the anger was fading, receding, leaving behind a black pit, a hole in the middle of me. I could feel my eyes closing, hiding me away.<p>

"I don't know what I wanted" my mother said quietly, and this was so bizarre, so completely different to what I expected, that I found myself slowing to a stop, my words falling silent. "I just didn't want you worrying anymore."

"What do you mean?" I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes. The anger that I'd felt only a few seconds before was gone as though it had never been. That was what scared me the most about those flashes; how quickly they came, how quickly they vanished, but what devastation they could leave in their wake.

My mother's sigh would have been audible ten blocks away. "I mean-that I don't want you worrying. I didn't, yesterday, either. That's why I kept telling you it was a hoax. And yesterday, everyone thought it was."

I waited. "But now?"

My mother sighed again. Seriously, it was becoming a conversational tic with her. "Now, I don't know what to think."

I stood still. Like it or not, I knew how she felt. This time yesterday, I'd felt the same way. Something weird was going on, and there was no way to explain it. But while I was accepting something that two days ago, I'd have laughed at, my mom couldn't seem to. And I didn't blame her for that. It was a lot more frightening to accept something might be true than to keep pushing it out of your head, pretend it didn't exist. I knew from experience.

"Well, I do." My voice surprised even me. "I know what-I think about it. And-"

My mother's voice cut across me. "They're sending students from your college home. It's closing for today, at least."  
>I stopped dead. Well, not literally, as I wasn't actually moving, but you get the idea.<p>

"You're serious?" Call me stupid, but I hadn't even considered how schools and colleges would factor into the alien equation.

"Yes. So-" My mother paused for a second. I frowned. "Do you want to come home?"

I stopped dead. I hadn't expected that question. And nor had I expected my own answer.

"No." The word fell from my lips without me even thinking about it. I frowned, surprised at the certainty with which I spoke, the conviction that I wanted to stay. But at the same time, I felt better. I felt lighter, stronger-free.

My mother understandably took a moment to answer. "Are you sure?"

The carefully controlled tone in her voice gave away her hurt, and I frowned. Why didn't I want to go home? There was a freaking alien invasion going on! Shouldn't it be a natural thing to want to spend time with your family? Your parents? Even if you didn't get on always..

Maybe it was for some. But I guess I swim against the tide.

"Mom" I whispered, my voice lowered, my body pressed against the wall. "I just-I'm sorry but-" I sighed, letting my head fall back slightly. "I-I don't know-I just want to stay here." I sneaked a glance down the hall at the cupboard under the stairs and turned away, my heart already beating faster. "I just-really miss them when I'm away, that's all" I said quietly. "And I haven't seen them properly in ages, and I want to spend a bit more time with them, and I think Morgan and Bo would like that, too, and-"

"Does Graham know?" My mother's voice was calmer now, more controlled, suppressing any hurt at the fact her younger daughter would so obviously rather not spend time with her. My heart twisted slightly.

"I haven't asked him yet-"

"Well, don't you think you'd better?" My mother's voice was normal again, if a little abrupt. I knew that; was used to that. My mother couldn't be hurt in front of me; she'd never let herself.

"Well-" I chanced another glance through the doorway, just in case Graham had woken up, and for some reason, was lying still, doing nothing. Unsurprisingly, he wasn't. "He's still asleep."  
>My mother's sigh almost blew my hair off my face. Well, not really-she was about forty miles away- but you get the idea.<p>

"Isabelle-" A second passed. Then my mother's voice came once more through the phone, and the careful control, the verbal facade that had been there, as long as I could remember, was cracked. Shaken. And that stunned me into silence more than anything I'd seen on the television the night before. More than anything else ever could.

"Isabelle, what-" My mother swallowed. I sat, frozen, clinging to the phone. "Isabelle, say this is something serious. What are we-" She broke off again, and I heard her sniff. I sank down onto the stairs.

_You've never cried before. It was always me; I was always the difficult one, and you were always the one who was out of reach..._

"What are we going to do, Isabelle?" My mother's voice was shrinking, small, hiding out of sight. "How would we contact you? How would we know what was happening?" She took a breath. "How would we know you were OK?"

The question hung in the air, a question I'd often longed to have her ask.

But now wasn't when I'd wished for it.

I drew in a breath, and felt my throat constrict slightly.

"I don't know, Mom" I said, and I wasn't surprised to find my voice little more than a whisper. "I don't know. But, I've got to stay here. Even if this is serious-I want to be here. With them. Mom, I-I can't just run back home again. I can't come running back to you. I never could."

There was a short silence. My head fell back against the step, and I felt my eyes burn. I let my lids flicker closed, the better to keep things inside.

"OK" My mother's voice was a whisper, and my teeth sank into my bottom lip. I bent my head forward, letting my hair fall over my face, like a curtain, a whisper, a veil over secrets. "That's OK."

_I can't go to you, anymore. I'm not yours, anymore. I'm me. I have to decide._

_I have to decide..._

"Mom-" The word tumbled from my lips of its' own accord, my mouth working without thinking. "Mom, are you OK? Is Dad OK? Is-"  
>"Isabelle, we're fine." The control was back. Cut yourself off from what's hurting you; pretend it's not there and it will go away. Don't show it what it's done to you, no matter what the cost.<p>

I thought of my mother hiding behind her calm little mask and my nails dug into my arm.

"Isabelle-"

I waited. "What, Mom?" I waited for a direction.

"Isabelle-" And once more, my mother's mask audibly slipped. I waited, hearing her readjust her costume of disguise, the clothes that covered her real feelings, sharper than thorns to expose, for the cuts they would leave behind.

I waited, and wished those thorns would stab me through just so I knew they were there.

"Isabelle-be careful. Please. I'll ring you later." My mother took a breath. "And-I need to ask you something."

I waited. "What, Mom?" My voice caught in my throat. I wondered what my mother could possibly ask of me.

"Isabelle-" My mother stopped, a lifetime's worth of questions in that three-second pause. I waited, for what seemed like the fifth time that morning.

My mother sighed. It was like a rule with her-in every conversation, she had to sigh at least twenty times. Or at least, in every conversation with me.

"Isabelle, is there any other reason you want to stay?"

I chanced another glance down the hall, and looked away, my cheeks flaming.

"Any at all?"

"No!" I shook my head uselessly, as though my mother could see me through the phone. "No, I just-"

I had aimed to sound confident and relaxed. I sounded about as confident and relaxed as a chipmunk on helium.

"Are you sure?" My mother's voice sounded suspicious, but at the same time, lighter, relieved, almost-happier?

My own voice dropped slightly. "Yeah-" It sounded weak, even to me.

My mother evidently agreed. "Isabelle, you're not a child. You were right about that."

I blinked, stunned at the idea of her accepting I was right about something for a change.

" I'm not going to ban you from seeing somebody you like. Not unless he's a drug dealer or something."  
>I laughed nervously. "Who said anything about-" My voice trailed off.<p>

My mother sighed. "Just-be careful with everything, OK Isabelle? Promise me." Her tone sounded warmer, more friendly, almost inviting.

I stared down the phone. I'd rarely heard my mother sound so much like a mother. This was a request, not an order. Ever since I'd been tiny, all I'd heard were commands; not harsh, not biting, but commands, commands designed to keep me safe. Commands that might have been intended to keep me happy.

"I promise" The words fell from my lips before I realised what I was saying.  
>"So there<em> is<em> someone you like?"

Well done, Isabelle. Very well done. If you had been in the Secret Service, you would surely have been the toast of the town.

Still, I feebly tried to backtrack.

"I just meant I was going to be careful! I didn't mean-"

My mother's laughter echoed down the phone lines. "OK, Isabelle. OK, I believe you."

"But, seriously-" Even as protests tumbled from my mouth, I realised I was smiling, too.

"OK." My mother sighed. "I'd better go. And Isabelle?"

"Yeah?"

"Say hi to Merrill for me."

I flushed scarlet at my mother's not-so-subtle implication.

"I will." My voice wavered, slightly higher than usual.

My mother laughed softly. "And, Isabelle, one more thing."

"What?" I loved my mother, I supposed, but if it was another dig about Merrill, I'd have to kill her.

"I love you."

I froze, staring at the phone. That was something I hadn't been expecting.

I love you.  
>"Isabelle? Did you hear me?" There was a slight fear in her tone, a trepidation. Anxiety, as though waiting for a rebuff.<p>

"Yeah." My voice squeaked slightly, so I swallowed. "Yeah. I did. Um-" I sat still, my mind annoyingly slow for some reason. "Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Love you too."

The words came out garbled, rushed, slightly hasty, but she heard them and she heard what they meant.

"Well-" There was an awkward pause as we waited. Neither of us was great at goodbyes. They always felt too permanent.

"See you soon, Isabelle." My mother's voice was determinedly cheery, relaxed, non-committial, as though this was any ordinary goodbye.

And it struck me that I might not speak to my mother again, for some time. Because-I didn't know how, but this felt strange. A good-bye, at least for a while. And something about that scared me.

"Mom-"

"Yes, dear?"

I sat still, searching for something to say. You never know. You can never plan when you're about to lose something and you always search for the perfect thing to tell someone. Then when it happens-you can't think of anything at all.

"Nothing, just-take care."  
>"You too. And, Isabelle?"<p>

"Yeah?"

There was a slight pause. "I meant what I said earlier, sweetheart. I meant it."

Sweetheart?

She paused again. "Love you." The words once again came out, rushed, slightly choked, unaccustomed to being spoken aloud.

"Love you too, Mom. See you soon." My own voice was muffled, desperate for her to stay one more moment, a few more seconds, not to go yet, not yet.

"Bye, Isabelle."

There was nothing more to say. Everything comes to an end, sooner or later.

"Bye.."  
>There was a click as the phone was put down at the other end. The dialling tone sounded in my ear, one long sound that told you you could speak all you wanted-no-one on the other end was listening.<p>

I scooted back on the stairs, my eyes still closed. Slowly, I clicked the button to end the call. It felt like a full stop; a door closing, and I might not know how to open it again.

I let my head fall back onto the stair above me. My eyes remained closed. Behind my lids, they were wet.

"Isabelle?"

I looked up to find Morgan and Bo standing behind me, both with identical looks of concern on their faces. Morgan sat down on the step above me, his brow furrowed.

"Are you all right?" His voice was worried, absent of any early-morning greetings.

Bo sank down beside me, her blue eyes wide and solemn.

"I-" I tried to speak, and failed. "I-" I swallowed. "I don't know." My voice was a whisper, a whisper laced with tears which did not dare to fall.

"Isabelle?" Morgan stared at me, his hand reaching forward to awkwardly pat my shoulder. Bo, more calmly, simply placed a hand on my arm. I stared at her, so like her mother, knowing what to do to calm me. Colleen had always been first to comfort me, standing in line ahead of my own mother.

Bo, moving closer, reached out and took my hand. Gently, she brought out her own from behind her back, and unfolding her fingers, placed something in my palm. Looking down, I found myself holding a small brown teddy bear.

I looked up into Bo's eyes.

"To make you feel better" she said simply.

I stared at her, then at the little bear she'd placed in my hands. To make me feel better. A small teddy bear.

I pulled her in close, letting my head rest on top of hers', so she wouldn't see the tears running down my cheeks.

I never cry for long. I don't know whether it's choice or nature, but my tears never lasted long, even years ago, when I was little and had an excuse. And they were often hidden as secrets, and kept. I didn't see the problem; who would want to see my worries, when they had so many of their own?

And this time, sitting with Morgan's hand on my shoulder, and Bo sitting next to me quietly, I tried to stifle my tears quickly. They were kids; I'd upset them if I kept crying. I needed to stop. I had to...

"Are you scared about the aliens?" Morgan's voice seemed hopeful, as though wishing for such a worry that could be reassured. "You don't need to be; they're gone, Uncle Merrill said; or at least-"

That stopped my tears.  
>Gone?<p>

"They're gone?" I turned to Morgan. "What do you mean?" I scrubbed at my eyes impatiently. "What do you mean, they've gone? Do-"  
>Morgan shrugged. "Uncle Merrill said they've disappeared" he told me. "But he said something about how nobody knows yet, and we've still got to be careful. We still can't go near the corn. And-"<p>

"They've _disappeared_?"

Morgan nodded importantly. "But they might not really be gone" he told me. "They could just be invisible. It said so in my book. That's what we're doing, upstairs-"

"Why aren't you watching the television?" I frowned. The night before, Morgan and Bo had been glued to the screen; surely now they were allowed to watch the news. It was a national emergency, for God' s sake.

Morgan rolled his eyes. Apparently, the decision to limit their television-viewing had not been a mutual one.

"Uncle Merrill says we can't watch any more today" he muttered, dropping his gaze to the floor. "He took the television away."

"Took it _away_?" I seemed to be making a real habit of emphasising last words today. "Just to stop you watching it?"  
>Morgan sighed. "Yeah. He said we were getting obsessed or something. So we've been reading the book instead." He gestured upstairs, and my gaze followed him.<p>

"Isabelle?"

I looked round to find Merrill standing in front of us, confusion flickering in his eyes. My heart seemed to jump slightly, and I dropped my gaze.

"What's going on?" Merrill's tone was laced with puzzlement, as he crouched down in front of us. My breathing sped up-he was inches away from me, almost as close as he'd been last night, when we'd been pressed up against each other, so near I could feel the heat of his skin..

"Are you crying?" Merrill's voice was soft suddenly, softer than I'd ever heard, softer even than it had been last night when I'd heard his whisper to Graham that he'd never hurt me, no matter what happened.

Somehow, his voice squeezed another tear from my eye, and I felt the droplet trickle down my cheek. Something in Merrill's eyes softened even more, seemed to melt.

"Hey.." His hand reached out and touched my arm, and the heat made me gasp, the feeling of his skin on mine, his fingers like a gentle bracelet encircling my wrist.

Morgan shifted awkwardly behind me, attracting Merrill's attention. He looked up at the two of them seated quietly above me.

"Morgan-" He sighed, apparently wracking his brains for something for Morgan to do. "Um-could you and Bo go and get Isabelle-" He paused, seemingly searching for something his niece and nephew could do for me.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" asked Morgan.

All three of us stared at him.

Morgan shrugged. "It's what Mom used to do when someone was upset."

The sound of my sister on his voice gave me a jolt, and yet at the same time, brought a smile to my lips.

"Um, yeah." Merrill looked more relieved than anything. "Yeah, you and Bo could go and make her a cup of tea, if you want to-" He looked hesitantly at me.

I nodded. "Thanks, Morgan." My voice was little more than a whisper. "That would be great."

Morgan nodded, and slid down the remaining stairs, Bo slipping her hand into his.

"You can keep my bear" she announced, following her brother down the hallway. "Just until you're feeling better."

I smiled. "Thanks, Bo."

Merrill, also grinning, proceeded to sit down beside me, his arm pressed against mine. My cheeks flushed at the close proximity.

"You OK?" he asked.

I shrugged. Now that Morgan and Bo and their various distractions of tea, bears and alien news were gone, the tears seemed to be making a comeback. I blinked hard.

"Hey.." Merrill's arm slid around my shoulder.

I froze, my eyes lifting to his face. His own were fixed on me, turquoise dreams and imaginings. I stared at him, my eyes measuring his cheekbones, his lips..the soft flush of colour at his mouth,...the distance between his and mine..

"You OK?" His voice was soft, gentle. He stared at me, his eyes concerned, framed by long lashes-how had I not noticed how long his eyelashes were?-

"Isabelle?"

I jumped. "Oh-um-I-" Well done, Isabelle. Well done. That really helped matters.

I shrugged, trying to ignore how good his arm felt around my shoulders. "Just upset." Oh, great, that cleared things up.

Merrill didn't seem to mind, though. "What about?" His grip tightened slightly and I shifted unconsciously, moving closer until my leg was pressed against his and it was suddenly a lot harder to breathe.

I shrugged, again. It seemed to be becoming a habit. "Just-I was speaking to my mom and-" My eyes felt wet and I brushed at them, impatiently. I didn't usually cry so easily. I usually had the opposite problem.

Merrill's hand lifted to my cheek. Gently, his finger brushed my skin, and I froze, barely breathing, as his hand slid gently under my chin, turning my face towards him. His finger trailed under my lip, nudging it gently into a smile.

His eyes were soft. "You don't have to tell me." I shrugged, leaning further into him. I let my eyes close, concentrating on nothing but how he felt, how warm and real he felt next to me, the way his skin brushed against mine...

"The kettle's on!"

I almost jumped out of my skin.

Morgan was standing in front of us, grinning. I hadn't even heard him coming; maybe he'd crept up the hall or something. Morgan Hess: Stealthinator.

OK, it was stupid, but it made me smile.

"Thanks, Morgan." Merrill did not sound overly enthusiastic at his nephew's eagerness to help out, and I stared at him, surprised.

Morgan sighed. "It's not like we had anything else to do" he told his uncle. "Not when there's no television to watch."  
>Very subtle, Morgan.<p>

Merrill sighed. "Morgan, you watched television right from when you got up. That was _four hours ago."_

"Well, how else are we going to know what's going on?" Morgan glared at his uncle, apparently affronted at the deprivation of access to alien news.

Merrill rolled his eyes. "I told you. I'll watch the TV and tell you what's going on. And I have."

"Where is the TV?" I turned to Merrill, wondering where on earth he was watching it. For a moment, I had the bizarre image of him sitting outside on the kids' jungle gym, with the television beside him.

Merrill jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. "In the closet."

I stared at him. Huh?

That's when I caught on that he meant the closet under the stairs.

"You're sitting in there?" I followed his gesture to the small cupboard.

Merrill nodded. "Yeah. I used some extension cords to hook it up to the wall in there." He pointed to the family room where we still had a clear view of Graham sleeping on the couch.

"What time did you get up?" I asked, suddenly realising I had no idea how long everyone else (bar Graham) had been awake.

Merrill shrugged. "Since about five am. _He_"- he indicated Morgan. "Woke me up and after that, there was no point going back to sleep." He sighed. "We didn't want to wake you and Graham up so we just watched the news."

I nodded, blinking in the rays of sunlight carpeting the hallway. "Morgan said the aliens had disappeared?" My tears had dried up now; there was too much to think about.

Merrill nodded. "Yep. We can't see them, anyway. But we're not sure. We don't know if they're still there. You know, invisible." He grimaced slightly. "I sound like I'm in a sci-fi movie."

I laughed. For the first time, I noticed that Merrill was dressed differently from yesterday, unlike the two kids. I stared at him. The dark blue shirt clung to his shoulders slightly, emphasising his build, setting off his eyes... I let my eyes skate over him quickly, taking in once again the deep brown of his hair, the thoughtful expression in his gaze..how soft his skin looked...what it would feel like to...

"Isabelle?"

I blinked.

Morgan and Merrill were both staring at me, Morgan with confusion, Merrill with something different. Hope? Mischief?

"Sorry" I shook my head. "I was just-thinking." No need to say what I was thinking about.

"Where's Bo?" I asked Morgan, mostly to relieve the moment than anything else.

"In the kitchen" Morgan told me. "She says you can keep her bear for as long as you need."

Thanks, Bo. I'm sure in this time of darkness, your small brown teddy bear will be just the thing to keep our chins up.

The thought only lasted a minute before I pushed it away. Bo was only trying to help. She was only four.

"Tell her thanks" I told Morgan. I examined the bear dubiously. "Um-I appreciate it."

I couldn't be sure, but I thought I heard Merrill snigger slightly.

I sighed and a slightly awkward silence fell over us. Morgan stood still and stared at Merrill and I. Merrill sat perfectly quietly next to me. I stared at my knees and wondered how to break the silence.

Did I mention it was awkward?

OK, enough. I had to say something. Had to. Anything.

"Right." The word fell into the air. "Well..I'd..." I cast about for some task to do, some way of escape from the conversation. "I'd better..."

Morgan and Merrill both stared at me, waiting.

"I, um, I..." Well done, Isabelle. Your intellect surely reaches the level of Einstein. "I need to..."

Morgan and Merrill waited. Merrill's lips moved into a smile, one that kept growing the longer I faltered.

"Go and get dressed" I finally announced, before turning and bounding up the stairs as fast as possible. Don't look back, Isabelle. Don't look back. Not after that pathetic performance. Just remain calm, poised and-  
>"Aaargh!"<p>

"You OK?"

Note to self; remaining calm and poised does not entail tripping up at the top of the stairs, and falling flat on your face.

"I'm fine" I gritted out, before dragging myself upright. The last thing I needed was to be helped up by Merrill for the second time that morning.

_Oh, very cool, Isabelle. Very cool. God knows what Merrill's on if he likes you..._

Fifteen minutes later, I descended the stairs, feeling slightly better. A shower and a change of clothes had helped a lot. As had staring at myself in the mirror and giving myself frantic pep talks before heading downstairs.

Just stay calm, Isabelle. Just act calm and cool and casual and...

I tripped up once again at the bottom of the stairs. OK, this was just annoying. It wasn't even ironic any more. I was starting to think I was in some really bad story and that I needed to hire a new author.

I sighed, heading down the hall to the kitchen. The door under the stairs was closed, but stopping outside, I could hear the faint sounds of televisiual murmur that told me Merrill was sitting in there with the TV set.

I sighed. Merrill locking himself in with the TV set. It was like the start of an apocalypse movie, when everyone goes mad and starts isolating themselves, until nobody trusts anyone anymore.

In the kitchen, I found Morgan and Bo, with one steaming mug of tea sitting between them.  
>"Here you go." Morgan handed me a cup of something that was intended to be tea, but more closely resembled dishwater. "Sorry if it's milky-Bo poured in half the bottle."<p>

"I did not!"  
>I laughed. "It's fine, thanks." Morgan, pulling open a drawer, nodded, and reaching in, began to shuffle through the items, extricating a large roll of tinfoil. I stared at him, bemused.<p>

"What's that for?"

Morgan stared at me, as though I'd said something completely stupid. "So the aliens can't read our minds." He gestured to his head.

I figured it was best to act natural, and not let on that I didn't have a clue what he was talking about.  
>"Uh-huh" I nodded. "Did you read that in your book?"<p>

Morgan nodded, holding it up to show me. Taking it from him, I let it fall open in my hands and began to examine the pages. Pictures of aliens leapt out at me-not literally, that would have been surprising even given the current circumstances- and words from the text grabbed my gaze. _Extraterrestrials. Advanced. Invasion. Abduction. Motives._

_Hostile._

I tried to ignore the shiver the last word sent down my spine.

The weird part was it was hard to accept this was real. It sounds strange now, but even then, with all the news broadcasts, with colleges closing, it was hard to comprehend. For all my talk to my mother over the phone, there was still a part of my brain that searched for a rational, simple explanation. Because aliens just couldn't exist.

Could they?

_Given that your planet is probably being invaded by them.._ said the annoying voice in my head, that sometimes arrived and wouldn't shut up. _I would say it's a distinct possibility. Just because you ignore the idea of something doesn't mean it's untrue.  
><em>Very reassuring.

"Morgan?" I asked, absent-mindedly taking another sip of tea. "Does this book say anything about why aliens might invade a planet?"

My gaze had fallen back to the pages but I sensed Morgan's nod. "Yes." He sighed. "If they invade, it's most likely to aim for our resources. They've used up all their own and want to target our planet's next. But if they invade-" He sighed again. What was with my family and sighing?  
>"What?" I asked, my tone sharper than I'd intended. Bo, who had remained silent since her first three words, visibly flinched.<p>

Morgan looked at me. "If they invade, it means they're hostile."

I swallowed. My mug clinked as I placed it nervously on the counter. A heavy silence fell over the kitchen.

"I see" I said carefully. Don't scare them, just try and calm them down. They won't be hostile; they won't.

_Isabelle, two days ago you dismissed the possibility of aliens even existing. How on earth can you possibly know they're not hostile?  
><em>"I see" I said again. My vocabulary really was setting records today. I swallowed once more, carefully handing the book back to Morgan. "Well-"

I couldn't. I couldn't say anything to comfort them. Because there was nothing to say. There was no reassurance that I could give them, nothing I could say to make it better. There was no safety net to toss them into.

It occurred to me that this was what growing up was like or what I had always associated it with; that feeling of being tossed off a cliff, of having nothing to cling to, nothing to hold onto, terror filling you as you began the slow inevitable fall towards whatever waited for you below.

I sighed and stepped back.

"You can come and read with us if you want" Morgan offered. "So you know what to do when they come."  
>I grinned. "Thanks, Morgan, but I might watch the TV with your uncle. So I can tell you what's going on."<p>

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "OK" was all he said. But he grinned to himself as he glanced down, and I felt colour flood to the skin of my cheeks.

"Isabelle" said Bo seriously, the first words she'd spoken since I'd entered the kitchen, apart from her denial about the milk accusation.

"Yeah, Bo?"  
>"Is Uncle Merrill your boyfriend?"<p>

I froze. If my cheeks had turned red before, that was nothing to what they were doing now.

"What-what do you mean, Bo? Who said that?" I tried to laugh but my voice was thin and wavered unconvincingly.

And I couldn't help noticing I wasn't denying her claim.

"Morgan said Uncle Merrill was your boyfriend." Bo shrugged, turning her gaze to her brother, blue eyes wide and innocent.

Ah-ha.

"Did he now?" I turned my own gaze on Morgan, my eyes narrowing. "And I wonder what gave Morgan that idea?" I widened my eyes at him, and folded my arms as I waited for his answer.

Morgan shrugged defensively. "I didn't say he was your boyfriend" he told me, calmly lifting a handful of cereal out of an opened box. "I said he might be your boyfriend. And he might be. Mightn't he?" He looked up at me, a look of fake innocence on his face. "Anyway, you want him to be, right?"

My cheeks flushed again, in as good an answer as any.

Bo spoke again. "Isabelle?" Her voice was deadly serious. "What is a boyfriend?"

Morgan sniggered. I swallowed, nervously. "Bo, um-"

"It's like a boy who's your friend" Morgan told her, still sniggering.

"Are you my boyfriend?" Bo asked curiously, staring at her brother.

Morgan burst out laughing. "No, you're not my-I mean, I'm not your-"

I sighed. "Bo, maybe you should ask your dad-"

"He's asleep." Bo's face brightened suddenly. "Is it like what Uncle Merrill said about girlfriends?"

Morgan was laughing openly, now, and even I found it hard to stifle a smile.

"Don't laugh at me!" Bo's mouth had opened in a round O and her eyebrows knitted together in a frown.

I took a deep breath, composing myself. "Bo, don't worry. We're not laughing at you. Morgan-" I glared at her brother as he turned away, apparently struggling to get his humour under control. "Bo, ask your dad when he wakes up, OK?" Morgan's shoulders shook once more, apparently imagining his father's expression when he heard that question. I had to suppress a smirk myself-I felt a small pang of pity for Graham, still sleeping, blissfully oblivious to the conversation going on in his kitchen. I drained my tea, setting the empty mug on the draining board.

Bo sighed and shrugged. "Isabelle?" I glanced at her once again, trepidation building as I waited for her next question.

"Yeah?"

"Can I have a glass of water, please?"

My shoulders slumped in relief as I took her-still full glass-to the draining board, and exchanged it for another. Morgan rolled his eyes. "How many sips do you reckon she'll get out of this one?" he murmured to me. "I bet one."

"Morgan.." I warned him. "She can't help it." My stomach twisted a little.

"Here you go." I turned, handing the glass to Bo. "Be careful" I warned needlessly-Bo was always careful, barring yesterday's strawberry milkshake mishap.

Bo took the glass and sipped, experimentally. "Contaminated" she announced.

I groaned, against my better judgement, and Morgan sighed, accustomed to his sister's quirks. "I'll do it" he told me, heading to the sink. "You go and watch the television." He gave me a quick smile-one which made me smile back.

"Thanks, Morgan." I turned to the door. "And thanks for the bear, Bo-" I waved it at her. "It's been helping." I felt slightly ashamed of my uncharitable thoughts when she'd first given it to me.

Bo nodded once, her large eyes still fixed on my face. "Isabelle?"

How many times had she spoken my name that way in the last five minutes?

"Yeah?" I waited.

Bo stared at me. "Is Uncle Merrill really your boyfriend?"

I stared back at her, my mouth opening automatically to deny. But somehow, the words wouldn't come.

Instead, I settled for a half-shake of the head-half-shrug, while giving her a quick smile.

Grins broke out over both Bo and Morgan's faces, and colour crept up my own. I turned away, heading into the hall quickly to avoid any further interrogation.

"That means yes" I heard Morgan tell Bo, and stopped for a second, opening my mouth to call out a quick correction. But for some reason, I didn't. Instead, I just headed on to the cupboard under the stairs.

Standing outside, I took a deep breath, before knocking. _Just act natural.._ I told myself. _Just act natural.._

The door opened.

Merrill was sitting on a chair, with the TV set in front of him. Beneath his seat, extension cords coiled into the machine, and a dim lightbulb hung over his head. He shuffled round slightly, turning to face me.

"Hey, Isabelle." He smiled slightly, his eyes lighting up with an emotion I couldn't quite decipher-happiness? Hope? Something else?

"Thought you might be Morgan coming to nag me about using the TV again.." He grinned almost sheepishly and I felt my own lips curve into a smile, imagining Morgan's persistence on the matter.

I shook my head. "Nah. Just-" I dropped my gaze, feeling my cheeks flush yet again. _Please, please, brain, stop my cheeks going red and let me speak coherently to him for just a few minutes. _"So, is this your hideout?" I gestured to the small room, which was actually bigger than I'd expected. It seemed to hold a few coats and jackets, which brushed my hair as I leaned in through the doorway, but right now was mostly taken up with the TV set, the chair and Merrill himself.

And now, me.

Merrill laughed. "Not quite. Got potential, though." He gestured around himself. "Note the desirable location."

I laughed again, feeling my shoulders relax slightly. Merrill seemed good at that; relieving people's tension. It was something about him; something- I couldn't quite put my finger on it. But it put you at ease, made you laugh, made you forget when you needed to. Helped you remember when you needed to do that, too.

Merrill grinned, apparently more at ease himself. "Any particular reason for coming in? Or did you just want to see me?"

I felt my cheeks flush yet again. I needed to stop blushing, seriously. It was getting annoying.

"Both." The word fell from my lips before I'd even considered the implications.

Merrill didn't seem to mind. Just the opposite-his smile grew wider, illuminating his whole face, until even his eyes seemed to beam.

I felt my own face stretch into a grin, too. Something about his smile was infectious; something about him...

"I was, um-" I bent my head, not wanting Merrill to see how openly I was grinning, how happy just being in his presence made me. "I was wondering if I could come in and watch the TV?" I chanced a quick glance at him. "Or am I banned from it like the kids?" My eyes roved down his face, stopping at the small scar above his top lip. I wondered where it had come from.

"Yeah, sure." He stood up, almost leaping to his feet, and once again, I was reminded of his athletic ability, his mysterious baseball past. I stared at him for about the fifth time, letting my eyes examine his arms, the way they hung loosely at his side, the way his hands curved up slightly, as though longing to catch or throw, the way he seemed constantly on the move, as though he couldn't bear to sit still.

Apart from last night, of course. Then he'd been stiller than I'd ever known him.

"I'll get another chair from the kitchen" Merrill announced to me. "You can have mine." He gestured to the wooden seat he had just vacated.

"Thanks." I stepped towards the chair at the same moment he stepped towards the door, with the inevitable result.

"Sorry." I closed my eyes in exasperation at myself. How many times was I going to trip over in front of him? How many more times?

Merrill's hand was warm on my arm as he steadied me slightly. "Don't worry." His lips curved once again into a smile. "I'll catch you if you fall." His smile faded and for a moment, his eyes grew softer, more serious. I stared at him, suddenly hyper-aware of how close we were.

Softly, Merrill lifted a hand to my cheek and lifted a stray strand of hair-the same one from the night before- that had slipped free of its' trappings. With a gentle movement, he tucked it behind my ear. His hand lingered for a moment, and I caught my breath as I felt his finger softly brush the skin of my cheek.

I stared at him, unable to breathe, my brain feeling mildly stunned. All I could see was him; his mouth, so close to mine...

"See you in a second." His breath tasted sweet, of peppermint, and his hand fell to my shoulder for a moment.

Then he was gone, out the door en route to the kitchen.

I stood still, staring after him, still feeling the trail of his finger down my cheek.

Taking a seat in his vacated chair, and placing Bo's bear gently under my seat, I stared at the screen, for lack of anything better to do. An image of Mexico City, daytime now, showed little out of the ordinary. In fact, had you not seen the news footage the night before, you might think nothing had happened at all.

I stared at the screen, and wondered. Morgan had said they might still be there; invisible. Could it be true that they hovered, still watching, still waiting, unbeknownst to the city-dwellers going about their lives in blissful oblivion below?

"Here you go." Merrill re-entered the closet, carrying another chair, which he seated himself in. He sighed, running his hands through his hair, before reaching out and pulling the door, shutting it with a sharp click.

We were alone.

I stared at him, for a moment, absorbed in the contours of his cheekbones, the slightly dreamy look in his eyes, and he turned before I could look away. "What?" His smile was mischievous, teasing and I dropped my gaze before he could see the flush of colour in my cheeks.

"Nothing." I shook my head in an attempt to corroborate my unconvincing claim.

"Tell me." He was grinning openly now, and I felt myself grin back, despite the seriousness of the news broadcasts.

"Nothing, seriously!" I laughed, hoping to distract him, turning towards the television.

Merrill seemed to allow the answer, but his grin didn't fade and neither did my own. I could feel his eyes on my face, as I stared at the screen.

"What are you so happy about today, anyway?" I asked him. I mean, I felt pretty happy myself but I hadn't forgotten we were in the midst of a possible alien invasion. Happy might not be a word you'd associate with the current circumstances.

Merrill shrugged. "Nothing. Just-" He shrugged. "Maybe they've gone. Maybe this was one of those freaky two-day things and they've gone. And everything can go back to normal."

I shrugged. "Maybe." I sighed, wishing I could be as confident as him. But there was just something about this..something about the tense atmosphere...that told me things weren't going to be nearly as simple as that.

Merrill clearly picked up on my doubt-laced tone. "You don't think so?"

I sighed. "I don't know..I just-" I chewed my lip, wondering how best to explain it to him. "I just-it feels like something's going to happen. Something big. I don't want to, you know, tempt fate or anything, but it just-" I shrugged. "I guess I always-" I sighed, unable to explain properly.

Merrill stared at me. "Always what?" His voice was soft, and he leant closer to me. Our chairs were pressed up against each other, and he was moving closer to me each second.

I sighed. "Worry about the worst, I guess. Not expect the worst, but worry about it. I always have done. It's like if I'm prepared for the worst, I can handle the other stuff." I stopped, wondering how much to tell him. "But I go over and over what I'd do if the worst happened and it still doesn't make me feel any better. I can't stop though. Don't know why." I shrugged, focusing on my knees, carefully looking anywhere but at Merrill.

Merrill stared at me for a moment, before very, very slowly, reaching out and touching my arm. "Don't worry." His voice was soft, quiet. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

My eyes lifted to his face. "What if we don't have a choice?" The question was out before I'd even thought about what it meant.

Merrill swallowed, and I felt him tense slightly. His grip tightened on my arm. "There's always a choice."

I stared at him. I liked Merrill, but he was wrong about this. He had to be. My sister hadn't had a choice. I didn't have a choice. How could there always be one?

But I didn't pull away. Instead, I leaned closer to him, my head falling onto his shoulder. Maybe there wasn't always a choice but I wanted to believe there could be.

Merrill's arm slipped around my shoulders. "Why were you crying earlier?" His voice was soft, gentle, and I felt better for hearing it.

I sighed. "Mom and I were talking and-we kind of fell out." I shifted slightly on my chair, wondering how best to explain it. "It's-she doesn't believe all this stuff. You know, extraterrestrials. It's just not her. She doesn't believe in anything like that, she never has done. And yesterday, she thought it was a hoax. But today-"I swallowed. "Today, she couldn't explain it. But she still tried to. And I don't know, I just-"I shrugged. "It's kind of like when I was a kid. She didn't-"I sighed. "I sound like I'm whining."

"No you don't." His voice was gentle, reassuring, encouraging me to continue.

I took a breath. "It's just that-it's hard to explain. When I was younger, my mom kind of didn't want to accept anything was wrong. Anything was difficult. It was kind of like, she could pretend there wasn't a problem and as long as she pretended that, than there was no problem, and she didn't have to deal with the fallout. If you get what I'm saying..." I looked at Merrill anxiously, painfully aware that my babbling made about as much sense as the sounds we'd heard on the baby monitor the day before. Was it really only the day before? It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"I get it." His voice was thoughtful and his eyes roved down my face as he spoke. "She didn't want to face up to what was wrong, because then she'd have to fix it."

I nodded. "Yeah. Kind of. She didn't exactly pretend it wasn't there, but she'd-" I sighed. "It's hard to explain. She'd change the subject or laugh it off. You know, aversion stuff. And it was sometimes easier to go along with it than keep trying to talk to her about stuff. " I shrugged. "And I guess I wasn't too easy, either. I mean, it must have been hard for my mom. Imagine when every other kid in the yard can't wait to get to a birthday party and your kid freaks out in case the food isn't arranged right." I laughed, but it was a humourless sound.

Merrill was silent, but it wasn't an awkward silence. It was the kind of quiet that suggests two people are thinking things over, trying to figure out where they stand.

"Maybe" he ventured eventually. "She didn't want to face up to it-because-" He sighed, too. "I don't know how to say it."

"Go on" I reassured him. "It's OK. I want to hear it."

He sighed. "Maybe she kind of-didn't want to try to make it better-because she couldn't?" He shrugged. "Or perhaps she was scared she couldn't?" He laughed. "It's stupid. Sorry."

I shook my head slowly, chewing my lip. "No.." I mused. "It-I didn't think about it like that. It kind of makes sense." Run away from things rather than face up to them; an easy thing to do. An easy option to take. But there's only so long you can keep running.

"Is that-" Merrill ducked his head, in an obvious attempt at casualness. "Is that why you had to go to a shrink?" His cheeks flushed with colour and he darted a quick glance at me. His eyes were cautious, wary. "The food thing?"

"Kind of. I mean-there was other stuff, too, but kind of." I stared at the television, unseeingly. How much did I tell him? I didn't talk to people much-even my friends. Not about stuff like this. It was easier to keep it quiet, bury it down inside, change the subject.

Change the subject.

Run away.

But there's only so far I could run.

I sighed. "Yeah " I told him, my voice lower now, quieter. Outside the door, we could hear footsteps, as Morgan and Bo clattered down the hallway, their voices chattering over each other. On the screen, cars drove down the highways in Mexico City, living their everyday lives, as though nothing unusual was happening.

Merrill's arm was still round my shoulders.

I took a deep breath, raising my gaze to his face. "I didn't start seeing a shrink until I was ten" I told him, my voice low. "I just-" I sighed, pushing a hand across my face. "I kind of-"

"It's OK." Merrill's voice was low, quick. "You don't have to tell me."

I took another breath. "No, I want to." The words were out before I'd even thought about them. "I want to-tell you. I need to talk about it." I looked up at him. "Feel free to shut me up if you want to." I smiled, hoping to lighten the atmosphere.

Merrill laughed. "Don't worry, I will."

"Thanks." I pretended to glare at him, then sighed. "Anyway.."

Merrill's arm slid further around me, and I forced myself to meet his gaze.

"I started seeing a shrink because my-my thought thing kind of got out of control." I took another deep breath, tugging at a hangnail. "I started-it sounds stupid." I lowered my gaze, unsure of how to explain myself.

"Go on." Merrill's voice was soft.

I sighed. "I started thinking all this stuff. Like if I thought something, it would come true, if I prayed for something it would come true-even if I didn't want it to. And then I couldn't help thinking about something I didn't want to happen, something I was scared of and then I'd get scared it would come true. I had to check my schoolwork about twenty times in case I'd written something I didn't mean to. If I thought something that was wrong, I had to think the same thought-word for word-a certain number of times, to make things right again. I had to arrange things right-food and stuff-and I couldn't step on cracks. I even had what Bo has with water-"Merrill's eyes widened, surprised, and I nodded. "That's mostly gone but I still get it sometimes." Merrill was silent, listening.

I shrugged. "Things got out of control, and just-" I pushed a hand through my fringe. Merrill's hand rose and tucked my hair behind my ear. "One day at school, we were doing a test or something and they told us to hand our papers in. But I hadn't checked it enough times. And so when they asked me to hand mine in, I couldn't." I sighed. "My teacher liked me-God knows why-and she knew I was this, like, total perfectionist kid, so she left me until last. And then she asked me to give her the paper again. And I wouldn't. So she waited until after class and then asked me again. And I wouldn't. Because-it sounds crazy, but I had to check it the right number of times. I had to. And that day, no matter how many times I did it, it didn't feel right." My nails dug into my cheek, unthinkingly, and I winced. Merrill, flinching himself, lifted his hand and gently coaxed my fingers away from my cheek, his hand squeezing mine for a moment. I felt a strange rush-almost a physical jolt-at the sensation of his skin.

"What happened?" Merrill's voice was soft, gentle, and turning to face him, I was once again, taken aback by how close we were, how near he was to me and how he wasn't looking away, how he was staying right where he was, and the sensation of his arm around my shoulders, and how his hand had felt holding mine...  
>I blinked, momentarily losing my train of thought. "Oh. Erm.." I sighed, hoping he wouldn't freak out. "She tried to take the paper away. You know, snatch it off my desk. " I demonstrated with my hand, as though Merrill couldn't work out what snatch meant. "And I freaked." I rubbed my eyes. "I started crying and screaming and having a panic attack. Shrieking. Thank God it was after class, and the other kids were outside. They thought I was weird enough, already." I didn't dare to meet Merrill's gaze. "They tried everything. Gave me a drink of water, tried to calm me down. Everything. Didn't work. It was like something out of Carrie." I sighed, rubbing my eyes once more. "Eventually, they had to call my parents. And they had to talk to the guidance counsellor. She asked me why I'd done it and I told her I hadn't checked the paper the right number of times. Which set off alarm bells." I shrugged. "She asked me a bunch of other questions, and told my parents I had to see a shrink. Long story short, we saw a bunch of therapists and eventually one of them realised the problem. And, being a therapist, she said I'd have to go to therapy." I sighed. "You think I'm a total nutcase, right?" Well done, Isabelle. Tell the guy you like that you had to see a shrink because you couldn't hold it together over a test. Well done.<p>

"No." Merrill's voice was firm. "I don't think that." His arm tightened around me.

I didn't know what to say, so I just leaned further into him. Luckily, Merrill broke the silence.

"Did it help?"

I sighed. "Knowing what the problem was helped. Knowing that it wasn't my fault. And talking about the reasons behind it, too. But, it was still hard. And it still comes back." I sighed. "It doesn't really go away, to be honest. But sometimes it's harder to control."

"Like the last few days?" Merrill's voice was cautious, curious and I looked at him in surprise.

"Yeah. A bit. Like-" I sighed again. I was making a real habit of it. What was it with sighing? "I can stop some of it, but not all of it. It sounds stupid, right? Like, I know it's not real. My brain knows it's not real. I'm not mad." My voice was more defensive than I'd intended. "I'm not. I know it's not real. But I can't help but listen to it."

"You're not mad." Merrill's voice was certain. "You're definitely not mad."

I looked at him. "You sure about that?" I raised an eyebrow, my lips curving into a smile.

Merrill grinned. "Well..." He pretended to study me. "Maybe not completely..." His lip curled in a grin, his eyes glinting.

I whacked him on the arm. "Cheek!" But I was laughing, suddenly lighter, happier, and trying not to show him how fast his grin made my heart beat.

Merrill laughed too, and I stared at him, surprised at how completely his face lit up when he smiled. It was strange; a transformation.

I sighed, leaning into him. I couldn't help noticing he had not detached his arm from my shoulders, and the thought sent a thrill up my spine.

My eyes lazily tracked a bird's flight across the television screen.

"What are you looking at?" Merrill's voice was a whisper close to my ear, and his breath was warm on my skin. I could barely breathe with him this close to me; it felt like lightning, shooting through my body.

"Just watching the bird." Well, that sounded brilliant, Isabelle. Nice emotional conversation and you follow it up with "Watching the bird." Typical.

Merrill laughed. "What, that?" He pointed to the screen. "How-wait." Something in his voice caught my attention.

My eyes, which had fluttered closed, opened again. "What?"

Merrill pointed at the screen and I saw exactly what. The bird was falling out of the sky.

The bird was falling out of the sky.

I sat upright. "What the-" I stared at the screen. "Birds don't fall out of the sky!"

It took me a second to realise how stupid that sentence sounded, but even I recognised that under the circumstances, it wasn't the time to make a joke.

Merrill stared at the screen. "It stopped!" I stared at him and he gestured to the television. "The bird stopped in midair! It stopped dead and went straight down! It just dropped."

The bird had by now fallen out of sight and we stared at the screen.

"Here, let's turn it up a little.." Merrill jabbed at the volume button and gradually the sound rose. "This footage is live and has not been edited in any way..." The newscasters' voices jabbered, evidently as surprised as the viewers.

I stared at the television. "Oh my God.." Yeah, useful, Isabelle. But maybe, I'd wanted to believe what Merrill said. That it could be a two-day thing. That maybe it was all over now.

I guessed this officially put an end to that theory.

Merrill appeared to be thinking along the same lines. "Guess they're not gone after all" he muttered. He stared at the screen, his eyes bemused. "But what could-"

I searched my memory for some explanation, any. The bird falling had to have something to do with the aliens. It had to. The events-two strange events in the skies over Mexico City over two days-could not be unconnected. "Maybe it's one of those force field things" I murmured. "You know, that no-one can get through. Maybe Morgan's book was right and they're still there, but invisible. And they've got this force field up, to protect them."

Merrill shrugged. "Maybe." He pushed a hand through his hair, his other slipping out of mine. I tried to ignore the pang in my chest.

I sank back in my chair, my eyes still fixed on the screen. "Well, that changes things" I muttered. A thrill of dread crawled up my spine.

Next to me, Merrill nodded. "Yeah" he murmured. "It does."

I stared at the screen. They were repeating the clip in slow motion. I watched the bird fly-in a normal, birdlike manner-across the screen. And it was just as Merrill said. The bird stopped dead in the middle of the air, before dropping straight down. I watched, as it played again. And again. And again.

Merrill didn't say anything but he reached over and turned up the volume.

The next hour passed slowly. The bird clip was repeated over and over, with me growing more and more fed up each time it came on. OK, we got it. Something weird was going on and a bird had fallen out of the sky. Did we have to have thirty _freaking_ reminders of it?

Still, some of the other stuff was more interesting. They found the falling bird and discovered it had made the trip to the great aviary in the sky (illustrated by the poor thing's crushed skull.) There was a load of speculation about what it had flown into. A wall? A shield? Some optical illusion type of barrier? What?

Plus, there were now about fifty different suggestions for what the crop circles were for. In one hour, we had one person insist they were indicators for landings, and that everyone nearest them would be the victims (I hoped that wasn't true-this was exciting, but I didn't fancy dying tonight), another assure us the crop circles were for navigation (similar to the first theory, but admittedly preferable. And with no references to victims, either), and yet a third speculate that the designs may be just for decoration, which gave me a good laugh if not anything else.

"The navigation one makes sense" I mused, staring at the screen. "I used to read stuff about aliens all the time. It was a commonly held theory. That the circles were for navigation and it was a plot for different ships to land at different points and use the circles to indicate their way around. Thus, navigate." I sighed. "But in the past, it always turned out to be a hoax."

Merrill, sitting next to me, nodded in acknowledgement of my words. He stared at the screen, his face tense. I took the opportunity to stare at him. He was watching the screen avidly, apparently intent on not missing a word. His earlier cheer had dissipated to form a strange tension that did not seem to be easing as the minutes passed.

"You OK?" I asked, pathetically. Yeah, course he was, Isabelle. Aliens were invading the planet, there were crop circles in his brother's backyard and he's stuck in a closet with you watching the television to prevent his brother's kids becoming dangerously brainwashed, but apart from that, everything was just fine and dandy.

Still, Merrill was polite. "Yeah" he muttered. "Just-" He sighed, pushing his hands through his hair once more. "Just a lot to take in" he eventually mumbled.

I sighed. "Yeah. I used to read about this stuff all the time as a kid. Never thought it would actually happen, though." I winced. OK, Isabelle, some sentences are stupid. That was _really _stupid. Of course you didn't think this would happen.

"You mentioned that the other day" Merrill told me, still examining the screen carefully. "You said you used to be into that stuff."

I nodded, vaguely remembering saying something of the kind. I remembered first seeing the crop circles; how fascinated I'd been by them. Was that really only two days ago? It felt like a lifetime.

"Yeah, I did." I remembered how entranced I'd been as a kid, watching any documentary that even mentioned the word "aliens" in it. Not just aliens; the supernatural, ghosts, vampires, you name it. I'd taken out almost every book in the library on the paranormal, and would spend hours alone in my room reading them. Somehow, dealing with those creatures sounded easier to me than coping with the ones that peopled my everyday life. "I used to read that stuff all the time. It freaked my mom out-she thought I was going to end up obsessed with death or something."

"And did you?" Merrill's eyes roved down my face, but his lips curved into a grin and I felt a thrill that I'd managed to distract him.

"No" I laughed. "I was always interested in that stuff, though. I loved reading horror stories, I used to scare myself stupid. I loved all that fantasy stuff. Any story, really." I turned to Merrill. "What about you?"

He shook his head. "Wasn't keen on reading. Or aliens." He grinned. "I played sports a lot."

"Unsurprisingly."

Merrill's eyes glinted. "Yeah. Baseball. All the time. It was what I wanted to do. I wasn't too great with the academic stuff." That shadow passed over his face again; the one I'd seen yesterday, when I was surprised he worked in a gas station. A flicker of loss, a brief glimpse of regret.

"And did you?" I asked the question unthinkingly, my eyes still on the TV screen. The minute the question was out of my mouth, I could have bitten out my tongue. Yes, I knew he'd played baseball in the past. But it obviously hadn't worked out.

Merrill nodded, but the glint died in his eyes and his lips pressed together. That same shadow ran over his face once more, and I stared at him, noting the complete change in his expression. His eyes were cast down, looking at his knees.

I don't know what made me do it. I didn't even think about it. I simply reached over and took his hand, my fingers interlocking with his for a brief second, hesitant, cautious.

My heart picked up at the heat of his skin on mine. His hand was warm and soft and felt peculiarly like home. I rubbed my thumb across his skin, cautiously, unsure of what else to do. It wasn't like I'd never held hands with a guy before, but this was different. This was different.

He didn't pull away. He didn't freak out at me. I didn't dare look at him, but I felt the weight of his gaze on my face and slowly I felt his fingers gently weave themselves back through mine. I felt something like electricity running through me.

I could feel my cheeks burning and it suddenly seemed to be much hotter in that little cupboard. My eyes met Merrill's for a brief second and a physical jolt seemed to go through me.

I dropped my gaze, turning to the television. They were replaying the bird clip for about the seventy-eighth time. I stared at the screen, but all I could think about was Merrill and how warm his hand was in mine and how strong his fingers felt around mine and how he wasn't letting go...

I stared at him. "Merrill?"

My voice caught in my throat, so his name ended up coming out as a slightly pathetic squeak. Very cool, Isabelle. Aliens and squeaking voices. Bring it on.

Merrill sniggered slightly, but nodded. "Yeah?"

"You know yesterday?" Brilliant, Isabelle. What does that question even mean?

Merrill looked slightly confused but nodded again. "Yeah?"

"You know when you were looking at that army leaflet-" Merrill tensed slightly. "And I asked why you really wanted to join the army and you said to get away from here." My eyes stayed on his. "And I asked why and you said there was too much junk from the past?" If he said "Yeah" again, I'd kill him.

Merrill nodded.

"What did you mean?" I dropped my gaze, turning back to the television, as though the eightieth repetition of the bird clip was the most fascinating thing I'd ever seen.

Merrill took a moment to answer, during which I held my breath and prayed I hadn't offended him with my-pretty personal-question.

I didn't seem to have done.

Merrill sighed. I stared at him, forgetting temporarily the images on the screen.  
>Merrill's eyes remained focused on the television. "There's too much stuff here."<p>

For a second, I thought he meant the small room we were sitting in and actually looked around, surprised. Then my brain kicked in.

Merrill carried on speaking. "There's just-" He sighed. "I like being with Graham and the kids but there's just a load-" He shrugged, and my fingers stroked across his palm in an effort to comfort him.

"What?" My own voice surprised me. Even as I watched him, part of my brain was screaming at me to shut up, stop prying into his business. But hey, I'd just bared part of my childhood to him. And I wasn't making him tell me anything.

Merrill sighed. "Too many people I disappointed. Everyone-" He shifted slightly in his chair, his eyes restlessly searching the screen. "You saw yesterday in the office. Lionel Pritchard."

I shook my head. "Pritchard's a moron. You don't need to listen-" My voice was louder than it needed to be and Merrill smiled in apparent amusement at the volume.

"He's stupid. But he was just saying what everyone else thinks."

I stared at him. "No-" Merrill was shaking his head, even before I finished my denial.

"Why wouldn't they? I haven't done anything. I haven't got anywhere. All I am is some ex-baseball player who works in a gas station." His voice was soft and his eyes suddenly seemed suspiciously moist. He dropped his gaze. "See? Not worth anything." His hand slid out of mine and he turned away.

"That's not true." My hand found his again, and didn't let go. "That isn't true. Don't say that." My own voice shook slightly, and my eyes narrowed.  
>Merrill smiled, but it was a humourless grin. "That's what you think-"<p>

"That's what I know." My voice was stronger, now. "You are worth something. You're important."

_I am slumped against the table, my head leaning on my hand. The stack of college applications lies in front of me, only three filled in. _

_The sounds of footsteps behind me indicates Colleen's arrival. "What's wrong?" Her voice is concerned, and she pulls out a chair beside me._

_I shrug. "Don't know what to put." I jab at the stack of college applications, in front of me, knocking a few to the floor. I decide I don't care._

"_Don't do that." Colleen's voice is sharp, sharper than I am used to. "What do you mean, you don't know what to put? You've already filled out three-"_

"_Yeah, and I don't care." My tone is petulant and I can't be bothered to change it. I slump further into the table. "It's not like I'm going to get in, anyway."_

"_Don't be so defeatist." Colleen's voice is sharper, still. "You've got as much chance as anyone else."_

"_Yeah, right." I shove the stack again. "What college is going to want me? Some freaky kid who can't control her own thoughts?" I kick at the chair opposite for the sheer pleasure of it. I don't care that I am ruining my own opportunities. Things have never worked out before and I doubt that they'll work out this time._

_Colleen's voice is loud. "Don't say that."_

"_Why not? It's the truth-"_

"_No, it is not." Colleen's eyes are furious, an emotion I have rarely seen there before. I stare, surprised. "You could get into any college you want if you felt like it. So you've got this problem. So what? It doesn't stop you from leading as good a life as anyone else."_

_I sneer. "That's not how the rest of the world thinks, Colleen. You really think anyone's going to give me a job when they look at my form and see the stuff written under "Health"?"_

"_And nobody will with that attitude." Colleen's voice is firm. "For God's sake, Isabelle. This isn't you. OK, you'll have a harder time than everyone else. Tough. You'll just have to try harder. But if you have that attitude, you'll never get anywhere."_

"_Fine. I'll never get anywhere." I lay my head down on my arms._

_Colleen yanks it up again. "Yes, you will." She glares at me. "So people will think you can't do anything because you've got this thing? Give up like this, you're proving them right. You can't run away from your problems, Isabelle. That just makes them bigger." She stares at me. "And you can't think like that. You can't just avoid college when you've got the ability to go and want to go. Just because you're scared to try. You can't avoid that forever. That's the coward's way out. And you're not a coward."_

_I stare at her. "How do you know?"_

_Colleen stares back. "Because I know you. And stop thinking of yourself as a freak. You're not. Stop the self-pity act, and get on with it. You're no less capable than anyone else. Don't you forget it."_

I stared at Merrill. "Stop-" I sighed. "Just don't talk about yourself like that, OK?"

"Why not?"

I could feel my temper rising. "Because it bugs me! You are important! We need you! Morgan and Bo need you! They love you, you're their uncle! Graham needs you! You-" I punched the chair, for no calculable reason whatsoever except I felt like punching and the chair happened to be present. "You help Graham all the time! You're helping him just by being here! He needs you here, because-you saw what he was like after my sister died! You helped him through that! And for God's sake, Merrill, I need you!" I fell silent, my cheeks flushing scarlet, not daring to look at him. I could feel his eyes on me and I had no idea what expression he wore.

"Um-that's what I think" I muttered hastily and stared at the screen, in a very impressive ending to my little speech.

Merrill shifted slightly on his chair next to me and his hand fell onto my arm. I didn't dare turn my gaze.

Merrill's voice was soft. "You remember what you said last night?"

I stared at the screen, my cheeks blazing, knowing that he'd heard everything I said and he'd heard everything I meant.

"Which bit?" I dropped my gaze to my lap, and saw his hand take hold of mine. Suddenly, it was very hard to breathe.

"The bit when I asked did you want me to stick around."

Taking a deep breath, I raised my eyes to his. I stared at his face, my gaze intense, captivated. Merrill's eyes were blazing green, and all I could see was him. His dark hair was tousled, tangled slightly and I found myself longing to tuck it gently behind his ear, just casually stroke my finger down his cheek...

"And you said "Maybe."" Merrill swallowed and I watched the movement of his throat, unable to tear my eyes from him. "Did you-" He faltered slightly, avoiding my gaze. "Did you mean-"

Softly, I leaned forward. My heart was pounding and I closed my eyes for a moment, my head spinning. It felt like my heart was flying.

My eyes flickered down to his lips. I stared at them, the faint flush of colour at his mouth, so close to mine...

"Did I mean what?" I was so close to him now, I could feel his breath, the heat of his skin. I felt Merrill's hand lose itself in my hair, pulling me towards him slightly. I let my eyes flutter closed, feeling him coming closer-

The door opened.

Merrill and I jumped apart, as though we'd received electric shocks.

Graham was standing in the doorway, staring at us. I had no idea what he was thinking, but I could guess.

"Hi." I raised one hand in a wave, as though he hadn't just walked in on his younger brother and I sitting way too close to each other, his hand in my hair, our lips so close we could almost taste it...

Graham raised an eyebrow. "Hi." What else was there to say?

A very long, very awkward moment of silence passed.

Merrill's voice was hesitant. "For the kids' protection." He gestured towards the television, as though that was the most unusual thing Graham had encountered when opening the door. "All they were doing was watching TV, from 5am." He glanced at his brother anxiously. "I felt like they were getting obsessed, like you said." Once more, he turned his eyes on Graham, as though begging him not to mention what he'd just nearly walked in on. To be honest, I was silently praying for the same thing. That was one conversation I did not wish to have with my brother-in-law...

Merrill stared hopelessly at the television screen once more. "They should be playing furry, furry rabbit or tea party or something" he muttered-referring, I hoped, to Morgan and Bo, not the newscasters on the television screen.

"What's furry, furry rabbit?" Graham and I spoke at the same time and exchanged a quick smile.  
>Merrill glanced at me, confused. "It's a game, isn't it?"<p>

God knows what kind of game. Sounded deeply bizarre to me.

"If you say so" I muttered, slumping back in my chair as the image on the screen changed.

"Anyways" Merrill leaned forward in his seat, his gaze focused on the television. "They closed the schools."

So it wasn't just colleges. That explained why Morgan and Bo were still at home.

Merrill continued, his gaze shifting rapidly between Graham and the television screen. "And there's been some interesting developments." He pointed at the image of Mexico City.

"What time is it?" Graham muttered. Looking at him, I noticed he was wearing his clothes from the previous day-he'd obviously only just woken up. He must have been more tired than any of us realised.

"Eleven am" Merrill muttered, clearly more interested in the news reports than the time of day. I couldn't say I blamed him.

But still. Eleven am?

"We've been in here that long?" I couldn't help asking.

Merrill nodded. "Uh-huh."

_Time flies when you're having fun._

Blood flooded my cheeks at the unintentional innuendo of that mental comment.

Merrill didn't notice. He was too busy updating his brother on the current situation. The situation regarding extraterrestrials and news broadcasts, that is.

"They're gone" he told Graham. "But they're not really gone. We just can't see them."

He sounded like something out of a sci-fi movie. God, what next? We'd end up sensing the invisible aliens' presence or something...

"Early this morning , a bird flew into the area where the lights were hovering last night." Merrill's finger traced across the screen. "It stopped dead in the air and fell straight down."

My stomach twisted uncomfortably at the memory.

"They caught it on tape. They've been playing it all morning." Merrill was fidgeting slightly in his seat, keyed up with excitement or fear-they seemed interchangeable at this point. "The footage looks like the bird flew into a wall in the sky-" He stared at the screen, his eyes flashing back and forth.

Graham, on the other hand, was watching his younger brother, with a slightly concerned look, as though wondering if Merrill had taken leave of his senses. I stared at him. He had to believe in this now, right? He had to realise there was no possible way this could be a hoax. If it was, I was pretty sure it would go down in history. "Aliens: The Day The World Was Fooled into Facing It's Gullibility."

Merrill didn't seem to notice the mild anxiety in Graham's eyes. "They found the bird-it's head was crushed." He stared at the screen frantically, his eyes charged with some kind of enthusiasm. "They think they have some kind of shield going-like-like an optical illusion-"

I wasn't sure if that was the technical definition of "optical illusion", but whatever.

Merrill stared at the television. "They're still there..hovering..."

I glanced up, as though expecting to see an alien head poking through the ceiling above me.

Humour aside, the idea of aliens hovering about was pretty creepy. What if-

Merrill continued, his voice rising slightly. "All over the place..over us, even."

OK, that freaked me out. I stared at the ceiling more suspiciously. Call me strange, but I couldn't get rid of the idea of aliens hovering in the air, watching us go about our daily lives. My skin crawled. What if they could see through walls or something? Their technology could be more advanced than ours. What if they were watching us right now?  
>Graham did not appear to share my fears. Instead, he merely rolled his eyes and backed slowly out of the cupboard. I stared at him. What was his problem? What did he think was going on, some giant hoax?<p>

Merrill carried on talking, regardless. "There's a theory about the c-"

Graham shut the door. Charming.

Merrill blinked for a moment, then leaned over and shouted through the wood, apparently deciding Graham hearing something was better than nothing. "The crop circles?"

Graham's footsteps moved away from the door.

Merrill carried on shouting. "They could be some kind of-"

"Merrill" I said, grabbing his arm. "I think he's gone."

Admitting defeat, Merrill shrugged and nodded. He stared at the door, apparently considering shouting after his brother anyway.

Instead, he turned his gaze back to the TV. "Some kind of...landmark, visual mapping system" he finished, quoting vocabulary we'd been hearing all morning. "So they could navigate-coordinate" he said, his voice dying to a whisper as he glanced at me. "Makes sense."

I nodded, turning back to the screen myself. Now that Graham was gone, the atmosphere was heavy, slightly awkward. I kept going back to that moment in my mind, that moment when his lips had been so near to mine, electricity racing through me, the heat of his skin palpable, the feeling of him so close..

And I couldn't stop picturing what would have happened had Graham not opened the door.

I could feel my cheeks were still boiling and whenever I dared glance at Merrill, I couldn't help noticing the tips of his ears were pink, making me smile slightly. I felt a sudden, almost overwhelming wave of fondness for him. Fondness, as well as-whatever else I was feeling.

"You OK?" I asked, the same question he'd asked me so many times over the last few days.

Merrill nodded. "Mm-hmm." His eyes drifted to my face then darted away again, when he saw me watching.

I sighed. Apparently, the awkwardness was more of an obstacle than I'd realised. "Why did Graham walk out?" I asked, almost thinking aloud. "Does-I don't know, he not believe any of this anymore, or something?"

Merrill shrugged."Dunno."

How informative.

I sighed, hoping he wouldn't be like this for the rest of the morning. I didn't fancy having to make one-sided conversation whilst we watched aliens invade the planet-it would be a little surreal.

Merrill sighed, suddenly leaning back. "Isabelle-"

Apparently, I wouldn't be making one-sided conversation whilst we watched aliens invade the planet.

But my heart picked up at his tone. Was he about to tell me he'd made a mistake, pulling me towards him like that?

"Yeah?" My eyes dropped down, my body tense, waiting for some kind of rebuff.

Merrill sighed, pushing his hand across his eyes. "Look-"

I closed my own eyes, waiting.

"Can you talk about something? Anything? It's just-" I opened my eyes to find Merrill pushing his hands through his hair, seemingly searching for something to do to let off energy. He sighed, leaning forward slightly. "I've just got-aliens going round my head and-"

"You want me to distract you?" I flushed scarlet the second the words were out of my mouth, realising how the comment could be taken. "I mean-by talking, I mean, not-um-anything else-I mean-" My face would have boiled a lobster by now, and it wasn't helped by Merrill's smirk.

I winced. "Sorry, I-"

Merrill was laughing now, shaking his head. "I know what you mean." He laughed again, and his hand skimmed mine quickly as he shifted position. I stared at him, my mind drifting even more to imagined scenarios...what might have occurred had Graham not entered the room..not opened that door..

I stared at the screen, wondering how best to distract Merrill and myself. To be honest, it might be a little difficult. I mean, we were just sitting there, watching an alien invasion. There was the possibility that the planet was being taken over as we spoke, with world leaders being brainwashed or hypnotised or something. There was the possibility we could all become robotic mind-controlled alien slaves.

It was a _little _hard to stop thinking about that...  
>Still, I had to lighten the tension, somehow.<p>

"OK" I said, my eyes still on the television, a question swimming into my head. "You're five years older than me, right?"

Merrill tensed slightly. "Yeah." His eyes watched me, his gaze more intense than I would have expected, increasing my heart rate, as, once again, his hand brushed against mine.

"How come I never saw you in school?" I watched him carefully. "I mean, in elementary school or something. How come I didn't meet you until now?"

Merrill shrugged. "We didn't live here when I was a kid. My dad and I moved here when I was fourteen." I nodded-I'd met his father a few times. He was relaxed, casual-liked watching baseball, unsurprisingly. And if Merrill was five years older, I wouldn't have seen him during the four years of high school.

"Graham had moved out by then" Merrill told me, his gaze shifting back anxiously to the screen. "He met your sister that year. That was one of the reasons we moved out here, to be closer to them."

I nodded. "If you were fourteen, I would have been-"

"Nine" Merrill provided the answer. "You were nine."

"Weren't you at their wedding?" I frowned. Maybe I had seen Merrill before, and had just forgotten about it.

Merrill laughed. "Yeah. You were the bridesmaid, right?"

I nodded, surprised. I didn't remember seeing Merrill as a kid, at all-though I hadn't been the most sociable child and in those days, one face could easily seem like another to me. "Yeah. Did you-"

Merrill laughed. "Yeah. I remember seeing you a couple of times. You had this dead serious look on your face, when you were walking behind Colleen. You had your teeth gritted and everything. And I remember you kind of-" He waved a hand. "Disappeared afterwards. Nobody could find you."

I nodded. "I went off and read somewhere, I think. I didn't like parties that much." Lots of noise and people asking me questions. Not my scene.

Merrill sniggered. "I remember Graham telling me you read a lot. He said I should read more. Don't know what I said back."

I shrugged. "Well, my parents always wanted me to play out more. Have more friends. Be more-" I sighed. "Normal, I guess you'd say."

Merrill stared at me, quiet for a moment. This time, he took my hand.

My heart raced against my ribs at the feel of his skin on mine. "I always preferred reading as a kid" I confessed, my eyes lowered, somehow shy of meeting his eyes. "I was probably the only kid whose parents told her to stop reading so much." I laughed slightly. "That was the only thing I liked about school. We could read a lot."

Merrill grinned, though his eyes were solemn, serious. My heart skipped a beat, when my gaze rose to their clear turquoise. "You didn't like school?"

I shook my head. "Come on. You heard what happened in fifth grade. How many friends do you think I had?"

Merrill's voice was soft. "That was fifth grade. Didn't people get over it?"

I sighed. "They might have done. But I was just-me. And people didn't like it." I laughed, humourlessly. "Still, at least I provided them with entertainment. I gave them something to do. Particularly Lionel Pritchard. Maybe chucking stuff in my hair and sticking notes on my back stimulated his brain a little. Shoving me about must have upped his neuron activity." I had intended the comment to be light, jokey, but something about it seemed wistful, heavy.

Merrill spoke with sudden sharpness. "He hit you?"

I shook my head. "Nah. He wouldn't have got away with that. Just shoved me a bit."

"Shoved?" Merrill's eyebrow was raised, his tone indignant. Sneaking another look at him, my eyes widened at the sight of the look on his face.

"Not that badly-" Even as I faltered, I wondered why I was defending him. I hated Lionel Pritchard. I hated what he'd done to me all through school. And yet there was still a part of me that was ashamed about it. Still a part of me that felt as though it was me that had done something wrong. Still a part of me that felt that somehow, some way I deserved it.

"It's just-" I sighed, wondering why the memory still bothered me so much, still turned my stomach upside down to think about it. "I guess I-" I ducked my head slightly. So much for the cheery distraction my question had started out as.

Merrill leaned closer, and his arm fell around my shoulders. "What?" he asked quietly, his voice tender, hesitant.

I pulled at a loose strand of hair, an old nervous habit. "I guess I always kind of thought it was my fault" I muttered, avoiding his gaze. "I guess I always thought if I wasn't so weird, it wouldn't have happened."

I chanced a glance at Merrill's eyes and the fire I found there gave me a physical jolt. He stared at me. "You seriously thought it was your fault?" In contrast to his stare, his voice was a whisper.

I shrugged. "I guess so. Yeah. I-" I let my eyes wander to the floor. It was years ago. It was stupid to still be affected by all that. Everyone went through stuff in high school. Most of them didn't still brood on it years later. No wonder I'd been shoved about, if this was how I reacted. Maybe I was the one with the problem. Not them.

That was the thought that had always whispered in my mind, always clawed at me during long nights, lying awake, alone.

What if this was my fault?

What if it all was?

What if I deserved all this stuff to happen?

The phone rang, a shrillness that penetrated even the thick wood of the cupboard door. A few seconds went by and the sound stopped as someone picked up the receiver.

Merrill spoke fiercely. "God. I always-" He gritted his teeth and I chanced another look at him, only to find his eyes burning anger. "I always hated Lionel Pritchard, but-"

"Why?" I asked, rubbing my eyes. "Did he wind you up, too?"

Merrill shrugged, scooting nearer to me. "He's always said stuff" he said, in a forced-casual manner. "You know, to everyone. It's how he is. It wasn't _your _fault." He stared at me, his gaze intense and this time I didn't look away. Instead, I stared straight back at him, letting some of the things I was feeling spill into my gaze. A second passed as we watched each other.

"He bothered you?" I couldn't help asking, again. It just seemed bizarre to me-that Merrill had ever been bothered by anyone.

Merrill laughed, a forced, tense sound. "Well, when you keep hitting strikeouts, and losing games, and everyone knows you'll never get further than minor league, people like Lionel Pritchard start shouting stuff, yeah." Humour dropped from his voice as he spoke, ending with a small shrug. "I guess I should have expected it."

I shook my head, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "God. That sounds horrible." My own brows knitted together. "What a prick."

Merrill laughed. At my questioning look, he smirked. "Sounds weird, hearing you curse. Thought you'd throw some big, intellectual insult at him."

"Why'd I waste my intellect on him?" I smirked. That had been one of the few things I had had against Lionel Pritchard-and had learned to use. I could cut him to shreds in a straight verbal fight.

Merrill laughed. "Good point." There was a short moment of silence, and memories swam into my head.

"I hated high school" I blurted out, without thinking. "I never got why everyone said it was the best years of your life. I remember looking at them and thinking "God, what'll the rest of it be like?""

Merrill laughed again.

I shrugged, my shoulders slumping forward. "It's just-this sounds whiny-but-I read a load of books about high school and everyone in them seemed to have a great time, and have friends and boyfriends, and get on great with teachers and I guess I thought that was what real high school would be like. Imagine my surprise. And so, it was a disappointment. I hated the place." I sighed, crossing my legs and leaning my chin on my hand. Real life doesn't work like it does in books-the hardest lesson for any bookworm to learn. The hardest lesson for any kid-real life isn't perfect. Things don't work out the way they're meant to. That's just the way it is.

Merrill stared at me. "Weird. I'd have thought teachers would have liked you." He gestured with a hand. "You're smart. You read. I'd have thought you'd be the type of kid they wanted in the class."

I shook my head, my mouth curling. "I was also the weird kid who wouldn't put her hand up in class and speak. I annoyed them." It was true, but I still felt like I was whining. "The one good thing about high school was I did make friends. Can't tell you how happy my parents were. Relieved their kid wasn't a total freak."

"You're not a freak." Merrill's voice was sharp, his words jagged. "You've never been a freak."

I snorted. "You're the only one that thinks so, then."

"No, I'm not." Merrill's tone was gentler now, lulling slightly. "Morgan and Bo don't think you're a freak. Graham definitely doesn't. And I don't."

I sighed. "Four people, Merrill. Four people."

"Four people who like you." There was a short pause filled with something unspoken, some unsaid feeling, suffusing the air between us. "Four people who love you." Merrill's voice was a whisper.

I didn't dare to turn round. I didn't. I couldn't make myself move. All I could think about was how he meant that sentence and what he meant by it and how I didn't dare to turn towards him in case it shattered the moment, pieces disappearing until it was as though it had never been at all...

The door opened. I swore I heard Merrill grit his teeth.

Graham reached in, his arm brushing Merrill's head and grabbed his jacket, his face set, determined. If I didn't know better, I'd have sworn he kept coming in on purpose.

"I'm going out for a few minutes." Graham's tone was one of forced calm, but the effort to keep his voice level gave away some apprehension. "No-one leaves this house." Pushing his jacket over his arm, he fixed Merrill and I with a look so determined it was almost a glare-an expression I'd rarely seen on Graham's face before. "No-one." He nodded slightly as though the repetition somehow underlined the importance of the comment.

Merrill stared up at him. "Where are you going?"

Graham was already walking down the hallway before we heard his answer. "Ray Reddy's house."

I almost fell off my chair. "Ray Reddy's house?" I leaned further over, struggling to see past Merrill into the hallway. I stared at Graham's retreating back, questions temporarily overwhelming my mouth into silence.

"Why?" Merrill and I spoke at the same time.

Graham did not look back as he answered. Instead, he kept his eyes straight ahead on the door. "I think he just called here."

My mind went blank. Why would-

Graham yanked open the front door, shoving his feet into shoes as he did so. Without looking back once, he walked over the threshold, slamming the door shut behind him. A dull finality seemed to follow its' echo.

I sank back into my chair, staring at Merrill, who looked just as bemused as me.

"Ray Reddy?" Merrill murmured, his eyes watching me carefully. He reached over, carefully pulling the closet door shut once more. "But why-"

I shrugged, my mind already racing through various possibilities. My nose twitched thoughtfully. All I could think of was Graham driving over there and punching Reddy in the nose or something as one final act of revenge.

"You don't think they're going to get in a fight or something?" I muttered, speaking my thoughts aloud.

Merrill's skin was pale and, illuminated in the light from the television, his face looked almost ethereal. "Doubt it." His lips twitched into a reluctant smile, however. "I wouldn't mind punching him, though."

"Graham or Ray Reddy?" I joked, hoping to lighten the increasingly ominous atmosphere.

Merrill narrowed his eyes. "You know who I mean."

I nodded, any humour falling from the situation as though it had never been. "I had a dream about him last night" I admitted, my tone falling quieter with each word.

Merrill's eyes widened in a question. "Who?"

"Ray Reddy." My gaze landed on Merrill's and I wondered how much I should tell him...how much I could bear to...if he'd meant what I thought he meant right before Graham opened the door...

Merrill's eyes softened, until they looked almost liquid. "Tell me." His hand, once again, found mine, his fingers folding mine into his palm.

Taking courage from the heat of his skin, I swallowed. Trusting someone enough to let them catch you. The hardest thing you could do.

But I had to start somehow.

My mouth opened. "About the trial." The words formed slowly in my mouth, and it didn't surprise me that my voice was a whisper. "How he walked into the room. I remember-" My eyes felt moist and I stopped, blinking hard. A warmth fell around my shoulders as Merrill's arm once again slipped around me. "I remember looking at him and thinking-" I glanced at the television. "What's that?"

Merrill's gaze turned for a moment. "They're showing the bird clip again." His eyes moved back to my face. "Go on." His voice was gentle, like a caress, a stroke to unruly fur.

Taking a deep breath, I forced my eyes back to his face. "I remember wondering how he could do it" I whispered. "How someone so ordinary could cause so much damage."

Merrill nodded, his stare more intent with each second that passed. I didn't look away.

"I knew him" I whispered. "We knew the guy. He looked after my pets as a kid, helped get them better. How could he-"

Merrill was nodding before I finished the sentence. "I know" he told me and his own voice cracked. "Graham knew him, too."

I swallowed, with a mouth that was suddenly dry, an ache rising in my throat. "I know he didn't do it deliberately." I gritted my teeth. "I know he'd never have hurt anyone deliberately. That makes it worse, somehow."

Merrill's eyes narrowed. "How?" The turquoise in them seemed liquid now, and his breathing was harder, as though he may be suppressing his own heartbreak.

I sniffed, my eyes lowered for a second, not wanting Merrill to see any tears that might escape. His hand slipped under my chin, lifting my face again. "Let me see." His finger landed on my cheek, catching one teardrop, one that slipped through the mask that seemed to fall over my eyes, locking things in. I sniffed again. Merrill's eyes, a sea of turquoise, were just inches from mine.

"It was harder" I whispered. "Because I hated him. Hated him. It was his fault. And he got away. He got away. And I just wish-" I broke off, feeling myself shake slightly. Merrill's arm tightened around me, and my head buried itself in his shoulder. All I could feel was him, his arms sliding around me and his voice whispering something, something gentle and soothing, his tone a quiet refuge, and the cloth of his jumper against my cheek, and the warmth of his skin, so near to my mouth. My lips pressed against the material of his clothes, in something, which with one movement, could become a kiss.

I took breath after breath, and slowly the shaking subsided, and my teeth stopped chattering, and I loosened my hold on Merrill-I hadn't even realised I was clinging to his shoulders-and I sat up slightly. But no tears had escaped and for once, I wished they had.

"Sorry" I whispered. "God-this is such a screwy time to be telling you all this. There's freaking aliens coming, for God's sake." I gestured to the screen, now displaying a still image of Mexico City. "And I'm sitting here-"

"It's not screwy." Merrill's thumb traced my cheek, and I closed my eyes for a moment, dizzy with the sensation. "If you don't talk about it now, when will you talk about it?"

I nodded, struggling to keep my voice level. "Good point." My eyes flickered open and returned to his face, meeting his gaze. "I never cry" I whispered to him. "Don't know why. Just can't seem to. Since she died. God knows why. I mean, maybe a bit of crying, yeah. But not that much. Not properly."

Merrill nodded. "Maybe you should."

I shrugged. "Maybe."

A second passed in which I watched him and he watched me. Neither of us spoke.

"Do you know" I finally broke the silence. "There was this thing-" I laughed softly. "This is going to sound berserk."

"Tell me." Merrill's lips were pursed slightly and the sight of them, that close to me, stopped me speaking for a minute.

"There was this book" I murmured. "I saw it yesterday, in a shop. But as a kid, I had a copy of it."  
>"Which book was it?"<p>

I told him the title.

"It used to be my favourite" I admitted, with a smile. "As a kid, it was my bedtime story. It was Colleen's book first, signed by the author and everything. And then she passed it on to me."

"And what happened?"

I sighed. "This is going to sound stupid. And it is stupid to still worry about it years later." I exhaled once before going on. "I used to take this book to school and one day I came home without it. I told Colleen I'd lost it, that I was sorry. And she was upset. But she forgot about it quickly. That's what she was like, you know."

"Yeah" Merrill stared at me, his eyes roving up and down. "I know."

"Thing is" I whispered. "Never lost it. Well, I did. But not by mistake."

Merrill's expression clouded. "Someone took it?"

I shook my head. "No." I sighed. "Some kids were laughing at me about it."

"Lionel Pritchard?"

I nodded, my eyes narrowing. "As always. And I-I dunno, I was eleven, I was desperate for it to stop, all the stuff, all the teasing, all the-"

"So?" Merrill's voice was careful now, questioning, waiting.

"So I binned it." I stared at him, waiting for his reaction.

His eyes widened. "_Binned_ it?"

"Walked up to a bin and threw it in." I sighed. "I was eleven. And it seems so stupid what I did. And stupid, that I still worry about it. I mean, I was eleven. It's not that big a deal. It's just that-" I shrugged. "I never lied to Colleen. And I did, that time. And I loved that book. And I still don't know why I threw it away. But all I did was want it back."

Merrill nodded, his eyes grave, musing. "You just wanted them to stop winding you up" he told me. "It was-you were a kid. You made a mistake. It's not a big deal."

I nodded. "I know. But it's just-" I sighed, unable to put into words why the whole incident still bothered me so much. "I just felt bad about it." No need to add what else I felt bad about. "And it didn't work anyway." I finished my story, my eyes cast down, the memory still plaguing me.

Merrill and I were silent for a moment. "Isabelle?"

"Yeah?" My voice was soft and husky. I risked another glance at the television. Nothing had changed that much. It was still a picture of Mexico City's skyline.

"What were you going to say earlier? Before the book story? About Ray Reddy?"

"Oh." I scrubbed my sleeve across my eyes, and the familiar tightness returned to my throat. I took a deep breath, leaning into Merrill once again.

"It would have been easier" I said, my voice surprisingly strong. "If he'd done it deliberately. Because then he would have been put away. And I'd have a better reason to hate him." There. I'd said it. I raised my gaze to Merrill's face. "How screwed up is that?" Once more, my laugh was humourless. "Wishing your own sister had been murdered?"

Merrill shook his head. "Not screwed up." He stared at me, his thumb now tracing under my bottom lip. "It's-" He sighed. "Don't know how to say it."

I nodded, encouraging him to continue. On impulse, I reached out and stroked a finger under his mouth. Quickly. Lightly. Once. Merrill closed his eyes for a moment, and I stared at him, my heart quickening, wondering if what he was feeling was anything like what I was, wondering if I was having the same effect on him that he was having on me...

"It's like-" He exhaled sharply. "You didn't want her to be murdered. But you wanted a reason to hate him. More than you already did. You-" He stared at me. "You wanted him to be the worst he could be-so you could hate him more. If that makes sense?"

I stared at him. So much for his claims of being stupid. "You should be the one taking psychology classes."

Merrill shook his head, his lips curving up slightly. "Just guessing."

"Well, it-it makes sense." I closed my eyes, trying to process what I'd just heard.

Merrill's voice was soft. "But you've got a reason to hate him. He killed your sister. Whether it was by accident or not, he killed her. You've got every right to hate him."

"I know" I nodded. "But-" I sighed. "It's like whilst I hate him, I'm stuck in the same place. I need to stop hating him one day or-" I struggled for the words. "It's like he dominates the rest of my life. It takes over everything. I've got to move on from it. From all of it. Or I'll never be able to get on with my life." I gritted my teeth. "I have to forgive him. That's what the grief counsellors said. One day. Not yet, maybe. Just not waste my time hating him. And somehow I resent him more, in that there's a part of me that thinks he deserves to be forgiven. Like I said, he's not a bad guy. He just-" I clenched my jaw. "He just made a mistake. But it's hard for me to think like that."

"'Course it is." Merrill slid his arm further around me. "Right now. But stuff changes."

I nodded. "I know. But-" I closed my eyes again."They said it might take a while. The therapist people. They called it looking on. Looking on, moving on, whatever. And they said it's the hardest thing to do. The hardest thing, but the most vital thing. And it might take years, but we can get there. We can, you know, move forward-" I came to a stop. "It sounds cheesy."

"Most therapy stuff does." Merrill's mouth broke into a small smile. "Doesn't mean it's not true."

I smiled myself. "Been a great few days, hasn't it?" I whispered. "Aliens. Ray Reddy. Me practically collapsing on you. You must be pretty fed up."

Merrill shook his head. "Not really." His voice was suddenly serious.

I gestured to the television. "I still can't believe this stuff" I muttered. "God, what a weekend to come and stay."

"Do you wish you hadn't?" Merrill's voice was softer now, but somehow-concerned. As though anticipating my answer.

I let my eyes flicker up to his face, just inches from my own. Letting people in. Trusting them. Something that didn't come naturally to me.

But maybe that didn't matter. Maybe all I needed to do was try.  
>Sometimes, I needed to forget about feeling safe. Giving the safe answer, and never knowing what may have transpired otherwise. Sometimes, maybe, it would be better to take a risk. Say the truth.<p>

Because what might happen as a result, may be beyond anything I imagined.

My thoughts, tracking across my mind, faded, leaving my brain oddly clear and yet dizzy at the same time. Merrill was still watching me, waiting for my answer.

"No" I whispered. "I don't wish I hadn't come."

Merrill stared at me. I leaned back, his arm still around me, my face only a few centimetres from his. His mouth was soft and smooth and so very, very close to mine.

"Why not?" he whispered. I could almost taste the words.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment. Just say it.

_If you don't take a chance now, you'll always regret it..._

I opened my eyes, and let them meet his gaze. I didn't look away. I just stared back at him, the way he was staring at me.

"Because I met you" I whispered. "That's why."

Merrill's eyes widened. I forced myself not to look away. Instead, I stayed close to him, my eyes on his, and I didn't move.

"Isabelle.." Merrill's voice was soft and hearing my name on his lips started a burning feeling inside me, like a firework ready to explode. I stared into his eyes, so close to mine.

"Catch me if I fall?" I whispered. _Take a leap._ I let my eyes flicker closed and leant towards him. I took a deep breath and waited.

He met me more than halfway. My heart thundered in my chest and every thought was eclipsed a second before our mouths slowly collided.

And then we were kissing.

His mouth was warm and soft and gentle and I didn't ever want to pull away. His breath was sweet and tasted of peppermint and I felt myself gasp as I let myself taste every inch of his lips. One of his hands was caressing the back of my neck, stroking my hair, and pulling me closer to him. My fingers crept up his cheek, sliding further back into his hair, dancing over the nape of his neck, stroking the soft skin there, making him shudder slightly and pull me closer. His lips grew fiercer yet still somehow gentle and I let myself explore his mouth, tasting its' warmth, and all I could feel, all that there was in that moment, was us kissing.

Slowly, some time later, we broke apart. I kept my eyes closed, struggling for breath, Merrill's hands still stroking the back of my head. My hands played in his hair, as I stayed still, just drifting for a few minutes..reliving what had just happened...

Slowly, I opened my eyes. Merrill was staring at me, his own eyes wide, his cheeks flushed. I stared back, unsure what to say, what to do. What did you say to a guy you'd just kissed, who you really wanted to kiss again?

"What are you thinking about?" Merrill murmured his question, not taking his eyes from my face. His hand stroked down my cheek once again, making me shiver slightly. He smiled at my reaction.

I opened my mouth, not knowing how to put what I wanted to say into words. "Um-" I shook my head. "Wow."

_I did not say that. Please tell me I did not just say that._

Merrill burst out laughing. At my shrug of apology, he shook his head, still laughing, and once again, slid a hand under my chin, lifting my face to his.

I shook my head. "I didn't-sorry, I-" _Isabelle, out of the most stupid, inappropriate, socially inept responses you could have made, that comes in the top ten. What in God's name is wrong with you?_

Merrill shook his head. "No, I'm not laughing at you, I'm not, it's just-" He drew in a breath, his eyes still dancing with humour. "Just the way you said it. It was kind of-" He shrugged, his cheeks flushing again. "I dunno."

I smiled, somehow unable to stop myself. "Sorry."

Merrill's smile grew once again. "Don't be sorry. I liked it."

There was an alien invasion going on. We had to prioritise. We had to. This was not the time to kiss him again. This was not the time..

And yet, sneaking a glance at the television, nothing had really changed. All they were doing was showing the bird clip again-seriously, did they not have anything else to show? Surely, if we were just distracted for a couple of minutes, it wouldn't make any difference?

The two sides of me argued it out. Guess which one won.

"What did you like?" I asked, my head tipped to one side. "Kissing or what I said?"

Merrill's smile widened into a grin and his eyes glinted, mischief in his gaze. "Both." His hand was warm on my back as he pulled me towards him again.

This time, his lips were fiercer on mine, but still gentle, still soft, and my own hands were sliding into his hair. A strange fire seemed to build inside me, growing with each kiss, tasting the insides of his mouth, the softness of his skin. Pressed against him, I could feel his heart slamming against mine. Everything fell away and for one blissful block of time, all that existed was us. Us...

A while later-it couldn't be five whole minutes by the time on the television, it couldn't-we broke apart. We didn't say anything. I simply leaned my head on Merrill's shoulder, as his arm slid around me once again. I felt strangely at peace. I knew it was stupid; the planet could be being taken over for God's sake, and I was distracted by my love life. But somehow, it was easy to forget that.

_Oh yes; just forget all about the dangerous, possibly hostile beings that may be __currently walking the surface of the world. They could be threatening; they could be planning mass murder; they could even be planning to harvest our bodies for food. But hey, what do you know? You're in love. That sure solves the problem. As long as everything's happy there, let's forget the possibility of mass fatalities._

OK, maybe I was getting a bit distracted. I made an effort to keep my eyes on the television, now showing pictures of crop circles from all over the world. India, Nairobi, China; my stomach squirmed at how many there were, how widespread their net seemed to be. How could there be so many?

_This is only a guess, but it might be the fact that they have technology that is vastly superior to ours and can probably cover a wide space in very little time. They seem to have mastered interplanetary space travel on a huge scale, so can probably get around our planet very, very quickly__. Just a __**wild **__guess._

I sighed, curling further into Merrill. "There's so many" I murmured. "God-what if you were right earlier? What if they're hovering over us? Like, right now?"

I glanced up, once again, feeling slightly queasy at the thought. What if they were hovering over us-watching us? Images from every sci-fi movie I'd ever watched sprung to mind. Murder, light rays, brainwashing. I shivered slightly, my mind briefly casting to Morgan and Bo upstairs. Maybe I should go and check on them...  
>"You OK?" Merrill was watching me cautiously, as though expecting me to leap up and bolt. My stomach swooped slightly, remembering already the feel of his mouth on mine.<p>

I dragged my mind back to the present, unable to prevent the smile from blossoming over my face. "Yeah." Once again, I brought my mouth to his, kissing him quickly, feeling his lips smile against mine.

As we broke apart once again, I stared shyly at him. Close up, he looked slightly weary, with shadows forming under his eyes, purple bruises on his skin. "What?" he asked, the way he had when we were first sitting in here, and I hadn't been able to stop staring at him. He had the exact same smile on his face.

"Nothing" I answered (again), laughing. "Just-you look a bit tired. Happy, but tired. You OK?"

Merrill shrugged, his eyes closing for a minute. "Just didn't get much sleep last night" he remarked, pulling himself further upright in his chair. "Morgan woke me up at five."  
>I winced at the thought. "Do you want to-" I trailed off. "I don't know, go to sleep for a bit? I'll wake you if anything happens." If you had to be kidnapped and brainwashed by evil extraterrestrials, you might as well be well rested for it.<p>

Merrill shook his head, yawning slightly. "I'll be OK." This comment was highlighted by him yawning yet again.

"Merrill" I said to him. "Come on. Just go to sleep for a bit. You'll feel better afterwards. No-one's going to go anywhere."

It took a little more persuading, but eventually Merrill conceded. "Only for a bit" he cautioned me, his eyes already closing. "Just for a bit."

"Fine." I nestled back into his arm and turned my gaze to the television. They were still showing different crop circles. I wondered if there'd been any other sightings of lights yet.

"Isabelle?"

I turned to face Merrill. "Yeah?"

His gaze dropped slightly, his cheeks flushing a little. "I just kind of-" His voice trailed off a little.  
>"What?" I nudged him, encouraging him to continue.<p>

"It's just-" Merrill sighed and his gaze rose to mine. "I-I really like you." My own face flushed scarlet and he smiled slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I just wanted to say that."

My brilliant vocabulary failed me. I wanted to come up with some amazing reply, some gloriously witty yet heartfelt comment, that would astonish him. Instead, all I came up with was "I like you too." Astounding.

But Merrill seemed to like it. "Good." Something about the way he said it, the slight grin on his face made me lean over and plant a kiss on his cheek. "Sleep well."

Merrill nodded, his eyes closing again, and I watched as his face relaxed slightly, already wreathed in dreams. I sighed, my eyes travelling over him.

Wow. My eyes measured the length of his eyelashes, the slope of his nose, the slight jut of his cheekbones. I watched as his eyelids fluttered slightly, movement beneath them. REM sleep. Often causes dreams.

I wondered what he was dreaming about.

My eyes travelled to his mouth, the pink of his lips, my own already longing to touch them again. I shook my head. He was sleeping-it wouldn't be fair to wake him up.

I'd just watch the news, instead.

I turned back to the television, Merrill's arm still around my shoulders. The reports were showing the bird clip for about the hundred and fiftieth time. They were also showing slightly gore-inducing images of the bird's body, found a few streets away from the scene of its' fall. I stared, once again mulling over the possibilities in my mind. A force field...a barrier..perhaps it had smashed into a ship itself even..the skin on the back of my neck prickled uncomfortably.

Ten or fifteen minutes passed. I'd need to check on Morgan and Bo-it wasn't fair to leave them up there on their own with nothing to do. Graham would be back soon. I wondered what he'd gone to see Ray Reddy for. I'd been surprised by that earlier, but I guessed certain other events-I glanced at Merrill-had pushed it out of my head.

Still, no doubt we'd find out..

"The startling footage we're about to show you was photographed by a forty-two year old, Romero Valadarez.." The newscaster's voice jabbered into my thoughts, shaking me out of my stupor.

I stared at the screen. Startling footage? What in God's name had happened now? Was there an actual sighting of an alien or-  
>The newscaster was sitting with a look of grave concern on her face. Then again, newscasters always looked like that. "This video was taken yesterday afternoon at his son's seventh birthday party in the city of Paso Fundo, Brazil."<p>

So, far away from us then. Though who knew if distance was a factor with the aliens?

Regardless, I nudged Merrill hard in the ribs. "Merrill." His eyes didn't open. "Merrill!" I nudged him harder. His eyes flickered slightly but still didn't open.

"It was sent to the local news bureau there and sent to us by satellite.." I stared at Merrill, tuning out the rest of the newscaster's sentence. All right, I'd tried waking him up nicely.  
>"Merrill!" I knocked him hard on the head.<br>"Ouch!" He jerked awake, staring around until his eyes lighted on me. "What happened?"

I gestured towards the TV screen. "Urgent report."

Merrill sat up, with one last indignant glance at me, before turning his gaze to the television. He scrubbed a hand across his face, apparently trying to wake himself up from whatever dreams he had fallen into.

The reporter stared out at us with an expression that was part professionalism, part concern. "All initial opinions are that this is genuine." Her lips pouted slightly. My eyes drifted to the name at the bottom of the screen; Sarah Hughes."What you are about to see may disturb you."

I'd chance it. Merrill pulled his chair further forward, his eyes narrowing, until he was literally inches from the screen. I followed suit, not wanting to miss a second of what would follow.

The image changed.

Children were jostling up and down in front of a window looking out on a backyard. They were all jabbering, in a language that I couldn't quite make out but presumed to be Portuguese. In the backyard, a half-cut birthday cake sat on a table, balloons waving in the overcast air. Unopened birthday presents were piled high and the now familiar sight of corn crops swayed ominously behind the birthday paraphernalia.

The camera pulled back slightly, the children turning to face the adult filming. They pointed out of the window, their eyes wide, all a strange mixture of excitement and terror.

Merrill sitting next to me, was leaning forward, his gaze watchful, alert. I stared at the screen, my heart slamming against my ribs, my muscles tensing in anticipation.

The camera pulled in again, giving us a clearer shot of the backyard and focusing, for some strange reason, on a swaying balloon. It took me a moment to realise that what the camera was actually focusing on was the waving corn stalks behind it, and I gripped the edges of my seat, as though I was in a horror film, waiting for the monster to jump out. Only this was painfully real.

Why couldn't it have all been a dream?

The camera pulled back once again, this time turning. The children were running down a hall, all of them panicked, apparently at a signal from one of the others. The cameraman followed, the shot wavering, losing focus a couple of times as he moved.

The children were congregating at a window now and I leaned closer to the television, struggling to see what they were looking at. The kids jostled back and forth, two little girls at the back straining to see past the others.

The camera moved closer, the cameraman moving behind the children this time, and we got a shot of two little boys wearing party hats sitting on the windowsill.

The cameraman bobbed slightly, clearly trying to get a clear shot, but every time he moved, a child's head would pop up and block the lens.

"Move, children! Vamanos!"

I stared at Merrill. "Move, children, vamanos?" He did know they couldn't hear him, right?  
>Merrill shrugged, his gaze still focused on the screen. "It's Portuguese" he told me, as if I didn't know.<p>

I rolled my eyes for a second, before being distracted once again by the images now playing.

A small boy-one of the ones sitting on the windowsill-was jabbering at the screen. His mouth moved fast, too fast for me to make out any of his language.

But I understood the next two words. "It's behind!"

What? Behind what? My heart seemed to jump up to my throat.

The camera focused past the kid's head, down an alleyway, flanked by corn stalks on one side and what appeared to be a garage on the other. The camera wavered slightly and for one second, nothing happened. Every nerve ending in my skin stood on end.

And then it moved across the screen. Tall. Green. Humanoid.

Extraterrestrial.

That was all my brain had time to process before I leapt upright, almost cracking my head. A small shriek was torn from my throat as I staggered backwards, as though the creature could leap through the screen. Merrill cried out, also on his feet, falling backwards, almost landing in the coats. The screen filled with hysterical screaming.

The image stopped, frozen for a second, and was hastily rewound. I stood stock still, unable to move, my hand over my mouth.

The little boy gabbled the same words again. He said something in Portuguese, followed by the same terrified exclamation. "It's behind!"

Merrill staggered forward slightly, his hand gripping the back of his chair for support. I followed suit, my body still tensed, hunched, waiting, knowing this time what we'd see..

One more shot of the alleyway and then it appeared. The screen froze, catching the image in time.

A tall, humanoid creature was standing directly in the middle of the screen. It was green, its' skin matching the colour of the corn crops perfectly. It was slightly hunched over but when it stood upright, it would be easily six foot tall. It stared directly at the camera, its' eyes narrowed, in an expression that could only be described as hatred.

An alien. A real alien. It was real.

Oh my God. It was real.

_It's happening..._

The screen flickered. Merrill and I stood still, both of us staring at the television. The alien's image hovered, menacing, silent, deadly.

**Hope you all enjoyed that! Sorry it was so long! Part 9 will be up soon!**


	9. The Waiting Game

**Hi everyone! Thanks for the great comments! Here's Chapter 9! Hope you enjoy!**

**Just a little note to say, no-one is based on anyone real. I know I keep saying this-I just don't want people to think the family of me or anyone I know is like Isabelle's parents at all. Sorry if I'm annoying everyone with it!**

**Chapter 10 will be up soon!**

**Enjoy!**

The television flickered slightly. Merrill and I stood still, both of us staring at the screen. The alien seemed to stare back, its' image frozen in time, stark, undeniable proof.

"Oh my God." The words were out of my mouth without me even realising what I was saying. "Oh my God. It's real."

_No shit, Sherlock._

Merrill stood still, his eyes wide. "Jeez" he muttered. "What the hell is that-" He pointed to the screen, as though hoping for some other answer than "an alien."

I stared at it, my eyes examining the creature closely. It was tall, with long arms and legs, and a peculiarly-shaped head. It stood still, staring directly at the children, and, by extension, us. It's eyes were small, difficult to see from the distance of the camera shot, but something about them-I shivered.

I stared at the television, my hands still gripping the back of my chair. The clip rewound, apparently about to be played again.

"The kids.." I murmured, glancing up as though I could see them through the stairs. "We need to get hold of them." Something felt wrong about leaving them up there alone. Yes, I knew, realistically, nothing could happen to them, but still. Something about it just felt-wrong. I didn't want them up there on their own. I wanted them safe, down here with us.

But just how safe was it?

"It came out of the corn" I murmured. "It came out of the corn, Merrill. What if it-what if they-" Into my mind swam gruesome pictures of a thousand aliens stalking out of the corn crops, all headed towards our house. Aliens, bent on destruction. An army of extraterrestrials.

Somewhere, my brain noted that an army of aliens might actually be pretty cool, if it wasn't for the fact they were out to kill us.

Merrill dropped his gaze from the television screen, his eyes flickering to my face. "You okay?" I could hear the struggle to keep his tone calm, but his eyes gave him away; they were livid with shock, with fear. He took a deep breath, trembling slightly, betraying his own terror, his own disbelief.

"Hey.." I sank back down into my seat, my arm sliding around his shoulders, the same way he had done for me earlier, as I'd talked his ear off regaling him with the entire history of my childhood. I stared at him, feeling him shake slightly, as my other arm slipped around him. "It's OK" I murmured. "It's OK."

_You can fall apart if you need to; we both can. I'll be here. I'll always be here._

Merrill stared at me, and with our faces so close, I could see even his lips were shaking slightly and dimly, some part of my brain registered that this must be even harder for him than it was for me. Like he'd said, yesterday, he was the one who protected the rest of us; the one who was strong. The one who didn't need protecting himself.

And what if he couldn't do that this time?

Merrill sucked in a breath and I could see him visibly trying to remain calm. "An alien" he muttered. "A freaking alien."

I nodded, unsure what to say. I mean, what did he want me to do, deny it? No, Merrill, that wasn't an alien you saw, it was a clever optical illusion?

But Merrill barely seemed to register my nod. "An alien" he muttered again, shaking harder than ever now. "Oh my God." He hunched over slightly, his frame trembling. He pressed his lips together, clearly trying to suppress any emotion, clear his head, though his attempt didn't seem to be working.

I stared at him. "It's OK" I murmured, with no idea what to say. "We'll be OK.."

"How is it OK, Isabelle? It's a freaking alien. How in hell is that ever going to-" Merrill's head slipped down and his hands covered his face for a moment, and I knew he was struggling not to fall apart. There were the kids upstairs; there was me, there was Graham. He didn't feel he could fall apart. Neither did I. It felt vaguely unfair, somehow, expecting the others to deal with me not holding it together.

But maybe sometimes, people needed to deal with it.

"Merrill." His name was round in my mouth, like a cherry pit that fitted snugly there. "It's OK. It's OK. You can-" I waved a hand, unable to articulate what I wanted to say. "You can do this. You can sit here and be, you know, shocked and whatever-" _Oh, for God's sake, Isabelle, make some sense. _I cleared my throat. "I know it's freaky-"

"Yeah, Isabelle, it's a freaking alien. I'd say it's freaky." Merrill's voice was muffled and I chose to ignore its' tone. I closed my eyes, knowing it wouldn't do much good to scream at Merrill that it was hardly my fault that there was a freaking alien on the television.

"Merrill-" My voice faded hopelessly, as my head fell onto his shoulder. I felt him tense slightly and felt a sharp pang in my chest. I wanted to comfort him, hug him, put my arms around him the way he had done for me, but I hesitated, nervous of annoying him, making things worse.

I stared at the TV screen again. The alien clip was replaying over and over, and the newscasters' voices were jabbering. There was the sense of an explosion; a wealth of new information. This video clip had given what people had been both anticipating and fearing; undeniable proof.

I chanced another glance at Merrill. "I need to go and get-" My voice trailed off, as I stood, my mind drifting to Morgan and Bo. How to tell them...what to tell them...

Merrill's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Wait." I turned back, my heart twisting at the sound of his voice, strained with the effort of sounding calm. His head was still lowered and slowly I sank back into my seat, next to him, my hand reaching out to his arm.  
>Merrill raised his head to look at me and I inhaled sharply at the sight of his face; it was livid white, with his lips trembling slightly, and my arm fell around his shoulders, before he could push me off. My forehead leaned against his and I drew a breath at the feeling of our skin together. Merrill stared at me, his eyes less than an inch from my own.<p>

"What's wrong?" My voice was a whisper and I expected an angry retort. _Honestly, like I couldn't tell what was wrong. _

Merrill closed his eyes for a moment and I watched him closely, determined not to pull away, not to leave him like this. "I just-" He bit his lip-hard, hard enough to leave a mark, and I raised my hand to his lips, my finger stroking gently under his mouth. "Don't." My voice was softer still. "Don't want you to damage your lips. I like them too much."

A small smile crossed Merrill's mouth, and I breathed out, relieved that I seemed to be cheering him a little, after all. "I just-" He sucked in another breath. "Sorry, I-"

"Tell me what's wrong." I'd never seen Merrill like this, so shocked, so confused, and it struck me as strange that after I'd whined down his ear all morning-admittedly, at his insistence-now I was the one asking him to confide in me.

"I just-" Merrill swallowed, and his eyes opened. They were tearless, burning into mine. "It sounds stupid, but-" He swallowed again. "I'm scared, you know? I'm scared. And it's stupid but-"

"It's not stupid." My arms were around his shoulders, holding him to me. He was still trembling slightly. "Go on. It's not."

Merrill shrugged slightly. "I just-I'm not meant to be scared. I'm meant to be the one who doesn't get scared. I'm meant-" A small smile spread over his face. "God. You're fine. It's just-don't take it the wrong way-but-I'd have thought you'd be the one who was scared-and I'd be the one helping you. But, it's the other way round-"

I tightened my grip on his shoulders. "Yeah, and I'm going to help you."

Merrill shook his head. "That's not how it works."

"Why not?" If he said it was because I was a girl, I'd kill him.

"It-" Merrill shrugged, lowering his gaze again. "I don't get scared." The confession was ripped out of him in a harsh whisper. "And now-now I am. And I'm meant to be the one looking after you, looking after them, Graham-and I don't know what to do. I don't know how to look after-how to protect everyone from this." There was a small muffled sound in his throat that might have been a sob.

"You can get scared." My own voice was wavering now, my desire to comfort him almost overwhelming me. "It's OK to be scared. Everyone is." I blinked, my own eyes burning. "It's OK." I whispered, and I slid my arms further around him.

I don't know whether it was my words or the hug that did it, but something changed. Something, some facade of control seemed to break in Merrill then, and he leaned into me. He was shaking harder than ever and he buried his face in my shoulder. My lips found his hair and I felt his arms slide around me, holding onto me. My arm slipped around his back, so for a moment his head rested on my shoulder.

"It's OK. It's OK to be scared." The words burbled from my lips. "It's OK."

Merrill made a stifled noise in the back of his throat, and I'd have thought he was crying, except I could feel no tears. His arms slid up around my shoulders and for a moment, we sat still, holding each other, my face buried in his hair, his own hidden, as for a brief period of time, each of us fell apart in our own ways.

I don't know how long it was before both of us regained control, our emotions calming and Merrill's breathing slowing slightly, my death grip on his shoulders loosening. He sat up slightly, his face still dry, tearless, but his hair messy, his eyes slightly bloodshot. All the same however, there was a part of me that still wanted to lean forward and let my lips find his again, and as his eyes roved down my face, I suspected there was a part of him that longed for the same thing.

"Sorry" he whispered, with a faint smile. "Didn't mean to freak you out."

"You didn't" I told him, my own smile growing. "I whined at you all morning-you're allowed to cry on my shoulder once."

Merrill's smirk grew into his recognisable grin. "Don't know about crying." He took a deep breath, seeming much calmer now. "It's just-God, aliens-" He turned to stare at the TV screen, one hand still over his mouth.

"I need to go and get the kids" I murmured. "They need to know what's happened, need to-" I sighed, wondering if the children, Morgan in particular, would be thrilled or terrified by the development. I suspected a little of both.

Merrill nodded. "I'll stay here. See if anything else-" He finished his sentence with a gesture towards the television, clearly communicating his meaning.

I nodded. "K." I stood up, heading to the door with one final glance at the TV. It had switched back to an image of the newscaster, who was staring at the screen with what I guessed was a typical expression for someone who's just had the world as they knew it turned upside down.

Merrill's chair scraped across the floor as he dragged his seat closer to the television. I pulled open the closet door, poking my head out wearily as though expecting to find an extraterrestrial standing in the hallway.

_Just get out there, Isabelle._

I sighed, stepping into the hall. There was no sound from upstairs and my stomach squirmed unpleasantly. Yes, I knew there was probably nothing wrong, but in my defence, aliens were taking over the planet. I think I was entitled to be a little jumpy.

Slowly, I turned back to the closet. Merrill was leaning forward, staring intently at the television screen.

On an impulse, I stepped back towards the door, leaning into the small space, my eyes fixed on Merrill's face. "Merrill?"

Merrill looked up briefly, his eyes flickering to me. "Yeah?"

I bent down and brushed my lips against his in a quick searing kiss that, despite only lasting a few seconds, started a heat in my cheeks, and fed the strange hunger that seemed to grow with each time our lips met; the desire to kiss him more and more, to be closer and closer to him, to..

I pushed every other thought out of my mind. We were in the midst of an alien invasion. It wasn't the best time.

I pulled back from Merrill, the kiss having lasted quite a bit longer than I'd intended. But I couldn't afford to get distracted, not now it looked like this attack might be bigger than anything we'd imagined.

Merrill smiled at me, a wider smile this time, his hand once again reaching up to stroke my cheek. I closed my eyes, feeling myself shiver deliciously.

"I've got to go" I murmured. "I've got to go and talk to them." I gestured up the stairs, as if Merrill couldn't tell who I was talking about.

Merrill's lips brushed my cheek quickly. "See you in a second." His fingers fluttered over my skin once more and then he pulled back, my eyes flickering open as he settled himself back into his chair, shaking his head slightly, as though clearing it, his gaze focusing back on the television screen.

Taking a deep breath to clear my own thoughts, I turned and headed towards the stairs, wondering what to say to Morgan and Bo with every step. How did I tell them something like this? How much did they need to know? I didn't want to frighten them, scare them...

_Sorry to break it to you, Isabelle, but the odds are against you. In case you'd forgotten in the midst of your fairytale romance, you've just seen an alien on the television. There's an alien invasion going on. Try to remember that, huh?_

Oh, shut up...

Reaching the top of the stairs, I could see that Morgan and Bo's door was ajar. I headed towards it quietly, not wanting to scare them, freak them out. The room seemed quiet, apart from the faint sound of whispers, and I wondered if Morgan and Bo were thinking along similar lines to me; if the aliens could turn invisible, who knew what else they could do? Seeing and hearing through walls may only be a step up on the ladder for them.

I tapped gently on the door. "Guys?" Pushing the wood with my hand, I stepped into the room, and stared at them.

Morgan and Bo were standing by a large telescope erected next to the window, which Morgan's eye was pressed firmly against. Bo stood beside him, her small face earnest as she watched her brother examine something through the lens. Both wore large silver hats-made out of tinfoil.

I stared at them for a moment, trying to find some explanation for the presence of those hats on their heads.

Morgan turned, and jumped. "You scared me" he told me reproachfully, clutching his chest as though to emphasize this fact. Bo, too, opened her mouth in surprise, though she neglected the dramatics of clutching her chest.

"Sorry" I muttered, for lack of anything else to say. "Erm-why-" I gestured to the large silver hats they both wore.

Morgan's gaze followed my hand and his face cleared as he understood what I meant. "So the aliens can't read our minds" he told me, with a satisfied grin, clearly proud of thinking up this preventative measure.

I stared at him for a moment without saying anything. Tinfoil hats to prevent extraterrestrial telepathy.

Whatever floats your boat...

"O-kayyy.." I drew the word out, sinking onto Bo's bed as I struggled for what to say next. "Erm-"

Morgan watched me. "We can make you one if you want" he offered, his face lighting up at the idea of a way to help.

"Oh, that's OK, um-" I tried not to betray my true feelings at the idea of walking around with a large piece of tinfoil on my head.

"It's OK" Morgan told me brightly, mistaking my refusal for a lack of desire to impose. "It won't take us long, I made mine and Bo's in about ten minutes. Bo, could you get me the tinfoil-"

Bo walked solemnly to her bedside cabinet, and handed Morgan a large sheet of tinfoil, from which he began tearing pieces. I sighed as he moved to sit beside me on the bed, holding a piece of tinfoil up to my hair, apparently attempting to decide on a correct size. "OK, then." I supposed giving in to the tinfoil request might buy me some time to figure out how to tell them their planet was definitely being taken over by extraterrestrial beings.

"So, what was it you wanted to tell us?" Morgan tore off another strip of tinfoil, as he spoke, his eyes narrowing as he focused on his work. Bo trotted over, sitting down on my right, her lip puckered slightly as she waited for me to speak.

"What do you mean, what did I want to tell you?" Morgan might be a lot of things, but I wasn't sure he was telepathic. Unlike the aliens, apparently.

"Well, you came up here." Morgan wrapped two pieces of tinfoil together, knotting them with his fingers. "So I guessed you had something to tell us." His eyes darted briefly to my face.

I sighed, my hand moving to my hair. OK, how did I do this? "Hey, kids, guess what, Merrill and I just saw a real live alien on television! No, it didn't look like ET and yes, I think it wants to kill us! Now, who wants tacos?"

I sensed that might not be the right approach.

Bo's finger prodded into my chin, her lips pouting slightly. "Isabelle?"

I watched her slightly warily, remembering her questions from that morning. "Yeah, Bo?"

"Why is your mouth all red?"

I froze, lifting my fingers nervously to my lips. "It's-it's red?" _Well done, Isabelle. _"Is-is it red?" _Even better. _"I-I mean-"

Yes, I knew very well why my lips were red. I guessed kissing someone four times in one hour could do that to you.

"People's mouths get red sometimes, Bo." Morgan pulled off some more tinfoil, his attention focused firmly on the task. "It happens when you're cold, happens when you're hot.." He yanked off another strip. "Happens when you're _kissing _someone.." His eyes flickered up to mine, an innocent grin playing at his lips.

Blood flooded to my cheeks. Very subtle, Morgan. Very subtle.

Bo stared at her brother. Apparently, I wasn't the only one to have noticed his grin. "Has _Isabelle_ been kissing someone?"

Morgan shrugged, keeping his eyes carefully on his handiwork. "How should I know?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, Bo, I-I haven't been kissing anyone-"

Bo's eyes widened. "Has she been kissing Uncle Merrill?"

"No, Bo, I have not been-"

"Dunno. She might have done." Morgan's tone seemed disinterested, though the glint in his eyes said otherwise. "She wouldn't tell you even if she had."

"Which I haven't." I tried to interject firmly, though my face could have boiled a lobster by this point.

Bo took no notice. "Why wouldn't she tell me?"

"Bo!" My voice was louder than I'd intended and both children turned to stare at me. "I've got something _else_ to tell you."

Bo watched me, surprised, but Morgan just nodded, his eyes cast down to the tinfoil. "Go ahead." His fingers continued working, the hat now beginning to take recognisable shape. He shifted slightly, though his eyes betrayed his excitement.

I sighed. How in God's name did I do this? "Um-on the TV just now-" I paused, my hand finding its' way into my hair. Morgan's hand slapped it away, as he held his half-finished creation up to my head, apparently testing for size.

"On the TV-?" Morgan lowered the tinfoil again, with a nod of acknowledgement.  
>"Yeah-well-" I sighed, rubbing my eyes. Bo shifted closer to me, her eyes widening. Morgan, too, looked up, his face losing its' smile.<p>

I took a deep breath. "There was a-video recording" I said carefully, careful not to convey every little detail-I didn't want to frighten them. "Of a-party yesterday and-" I swallowed, and felt myself shiver slightly at the memory. An alien. An actual freaking alien. "There was a sighting."

Morgan and Bo both stared at me, their lips working slightly as though struggling to comprehend the word.

"There was a sighting of an-" I took another deep breath. "Of an alien."

The word hung in the air, and I couldn't help but be aware of how stupid it sounded.

Morgan and Bo didn't laugh. They didn't scream. They both just sat still and stared at me.

"An alien." I waited for a reaction. "Not a ship. Not another crop circle. An-an alien. They've been seen. One of them's been seen." My voice seemed to be getting higher and higher as I spoke and I found myself shivering slightly. "It's been seen!" I stared at them, desperate for some kind of response.

Morgan broke the silence. "Isabelle? Are-are you OK?" His hand reached out to touch my arm, which I realised was trembling slightly.

I closed my eyes. _Just stay calm...just hold it together for them... _Dimly, I realised this was how Merrill must have felt just a few minutes ago.

I sighed, letting my eyes flicker open. "Yeah-I-I-" I took another breath, trembling slightly. "It was an actual alien." My voice was weak, still faint, the shock hitting me harder now. "An actual alien. It stopped. It stared at the camera. It was the real deal." I was shaking harder than ever now and Morgan's arm slipped further around my shoulders.

Bo was silent, sitting next to me. Her eyes travelled nervously to the window, the telescope, the sheet of tinfoil before finally landing on her brother. Morgan didn't seem to notice, one hand rubbing my arm in an attempt at consolation, while the other ripped at the tinfoil faster, rushing now, as though an alien might burst into the room any second.

"You know what it means, right?" I asked them, wondering for a moment if they actually understood what I'd said. I mean, I'd just told them there'd been an alien sighting. An _official _alien sighting. That it was all true. That the planet was being invaded.

A _little_ reaction might have been nice.

Morgan nodded once. "Yeah-" His voice was small, and staring at him, I couldn't help noticing that his hands shook slightly as he wrapped more tinfoil together. He ripped off a piece of Sellotape and lowered his gaze for a moment.

It was Bo's voice that shattered the silence this time. "Isabelle?"

I turned to look at her, half-dreading her question. "Yes, Bo?"

"Are we going to die?"

There was a ringing silence in the room

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. "No, Bo. We're not-" _How do you know that? _I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. "We're not going to die." I stared at her, wishing for something to say, something to ease her worries, something to make her forget. But there was nothing to tell her.

"What happened?" Morgan asked. He had abandoned the mostly-finished hat by this point and was staring at me intently. His eyes were serious, with no spark of humour in them. "What was the video clip you saw?"

I took a deep breath and launched into a little five-minute account of the video recording we'd watched downstairs. I was brief with it, and just told them the bare bones of what we'd seen; there was a birthday party, there were cornfields, something was moving behind the cornfields, the kids freaked out, they all looked down an alleyway, the cornfields moved a bit more and an alien stepped out. I left it there, well aware that if it hadn't been for the severity of the circumstances, my account would have sounded hilariously stupid.

When I finished-on the somewhat bizarre sentence "And the alien walked away.", there was a long moment of silence. I focused my gaze on my lap, my hand yanking at a strand of hair.

Morgan's voice was quiet as he spoke. "Where's Uncle Merrill?" His hands shook slightly as he picked up the now-completed tinfoil hat.

"Downstairs" I answered, my voice just as low as his. "Watching the clip again and again." I glanced at both of them out of the corner of my eyes. My predictions for their reactions had been way off the mark. I'd guessed we'd be facing half thrilled excitement, half pure terror.

Instead, we were faced with this. A kind of blank shock. An alien invasion and we didn't even have a reaction. Perfect.

"Do you-want to see it?" I asked, for lack of anything else to say. "I mean, your uncle wants you to come downstairs and they're playing the clip over and over-"

Bo buried her face in my side, and my hand found its' way into her hair. "It's OK.." My voice, intended to be soothing, trembled and cracked traitorously halfway through. About as soothing as an alien leaping through the window.

Morgan sat up straight, his face pale. I watched anxiously, wondering if he needed his inhaler at all. "It's a good thing we made the hats" he told me, his voice thin and nervous. "At least, they can't read our thoughts." Carefully, he picked up the completed tinfoil hat and held it out to me.

Oh, well, that would save humanity. Aliens invading the planet? Ruining kids' birthday parties? Trying to kill us all? Didn't matter, as long as you were wearing a silver tinfoil hat, everything would turn out dandy.

I examined the hat carefully. Silver. Tinfoil. Cone-shaped. There were aliens coming to earth. And this was my one protection against them. A tinfoil hat.

But what the hell. It was the best we had.

I took the hat and placed it on my head. I then sat and stared at the wall, feeling extremely stupid.

I was sitting in my nephew and niece's bedroom wearing a silver tinfoil hat, staring aimlessly at the wall and waiting for extraterrestrials to invade the earth. This could not be real. I'd have guessed I was in some stupid story dealing with alien invasions in among love and death and all that stuff, except that explanation seemed too realistic for this scenario. Which shows you how bad things were.

I might have got lost in my surrealist thoughts about tinfoil hats and alien stories if it weren't for the footsteps bounding up the stairs.

Morgan and Bo both jumped and looked around nervously, as though expecting an alien to poke its' head round the door and ask for directions to the White House or something. I shook my head, my hand lighting on Bo's arm, hopefully reassuring her that she wasn't about to be eaten alive by an extraterrestrial or something.

Merrill appeared in the doorway. His eyes widened.

I suddenly realised quite how egregiously stupid the sight must seem to him; his sister-in-law, his niece and his nephew all sitting still with silver tinfoil on our heads. Not just silver tinfoil. Silver tinfoil hats. Perfect.

Merrill blinked, shaking his head slightly, apparently deciding not to say anything. It seemed the seriousness of the situation was such that a few tinfoil hats didn't really matter in the great scheme of things.

"Did you-" He cleared his throat slightly and for the first time I noticed the pallor of his skin, and felt my heart skip several beats. I slid off the bed, straightening up and walking over to him, my hand automatically reaching to his face. "You OK?"

Merrill blinked, and I felt my cheeks flush, my hand beginning to drop to my side. But to my surprise, he reached out, his own fingers grasping mine. Without taking his eyes off my face, he lifted my hand to his skin, letting my palm caress his cheek for a second. The shadows under his eyes seemed even deeper, darker up close and I stared at him, trying to pretend it was normal to be this concerned about him. But what if he was sick? What if he was just pretending to be OK? My fingers found his cheekbone, dancing lightly across his face, and Merrill closed his eyes for a brief second, as though savouring the sensation.

A soft giggle brought me back to my senses. Merrill too, apparently-he jumped, pulling back at the exact same moment I let my hand drop hastily to my side. Bo was staring at us, her eyes glinting with a mixture of mischief and awe. Morgan seemed less taken aback, but, shuffling back on the bed, he remarked quietly "There are other people in the room, you know."

"Sorry." My voice was low, and I turned away hastily from Merrill, taking my place on the bed beside Morgan and Bo. It was only then I became aware I was still wearing my tinfoil hat. Perfect.

Merrill, still standing in the doorway, cleared his throat. "Did you-you know-" He jerked his head at Morgan and Bo, as though they were blind and/or stupid. "Tell them?"

"They can see, Merrill" I pointed out somewhat acerbically.

"Sorry." Merrill held up his hands, crossing to the bed and sinking down onto the mattress beside me. "So, did you?"

I sighed. "Yes, I told them that there's been a video clip of an alien on the TV." There. It was out. I turned back to Merrill. "Next question?"

Merrill rolled his eyes. "There's been-" He pushed his hand through his hair, and I stared at him, a wave of concern washing over me, and felt suddenly ashamed for being so snippy with him.

"Sorry" I murmured, my voice far more gentle. Merrill nodded in acknowledgement of my words.

"There's been some more developments." He sighed, his hand raking through his hair, before falling to the bedspread, and covering my own. I let him take my hand, my fingers wrapping around his. I tried to ignore the pointed looks from Morgan and Bo-though they weren't as focused on that side of things now. They were too busy listening to Merrill, their faces intent at his description.

"They played it a few times and they reckon the clip's genuine. They-" Merrill grimaced slightly. "Some "experts" reckon that the aliens' skin changes colours. You know, camouflage. And they seem to be right." He shifted slightly on his seat and I felt his pulse quicken slightly. "That was why we couldn't see it Saturday night." His voice was a whisper, but I caught the words.

"What's happening?" My voice was low, and the slight tremble betrayed my thoughts. On my left, Morgan and Bo both leaned forward slightly. Bo leaned into the crook of her brother's arm, her eyes wide. Morgan swallowed and I watched the movement of his throat, up and down in one quick gulp.

Merrill sighed. "We're-" He took a breath and closed his eyes, apparently trying to think of the best way to phrase what he wanted to say. "We're in trouble." He took another deep breath, his head resting on his hand for a minute, forehead grazing his knuckles. "It's an invasion."

The words hung in the air for a moment as we sat still, each of us processing the sentence differently.

"That's what they reckon, anyway." Merrill's voice was low, and I could tell from the strain in his tone that he was doing his best to sound calm, not to panic Morgan and Bo. "What they don't know is whether-" He took a deep breath and tried again. "What they want."

Not one of us needed to ask who "they" were.

Another moment of silence passed and my arm fell around Bo's shoulders. She leaned into me, saying nothing at all. In her silence, however, I could feel her trembling.

Morgan looked slightly shaken, like someone who's just survived an accident and it hasn't hit him yet. Merrill simply sat still, his chin propped on his hands, his eyes lost in some sea of distant thought. I sat and watched the rest of them. There was nothing to say.

I don't know how long passed before Merrill suddenly shook himself slightly, seeming to snap out of whatever mental state he'd lost himself in for that brief amount of time. "We need to go downstairs" he announced, suddenly pulling himself to his feet. "We need to wait for Graham to get home. We need to tell him what's happened. We need to-" A shudder passed briefly over Merrill's face and he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "He didn't take his cell, so we've just got to wait. We might as well be downstairs." I stared at him for a moment, before he cast his eyes darkly toward the window, and I understood his course of reasoning. Those things had been on the roof two nights before. Yes, I knew that theoretically we were in no more danger upstairs than we were down, but why take the risk?

"What's with the hats?" Merrill's voice was tired, strained and I had the feeling he didn't desperately want to know, just wanted to talk, fill the gap, make the sound of words so we didn't have to listen to anything else yet.

"They're to protect us." Morgan smiled, happy to explain the hat theory to yet another person. "To stop the aliens reading our minds."

Merrill stared at him. "To stop the aliens reading our minds?" Morgan nodded, not detecting the slight tone of incredulity beneath the words. Merrill stared straight ahead. "Great."

Another moment of silence hung in the air. I glanced at the window nervously. Was it my imagination or where the corn crops swaying back and forth a little faster? As though a wind was picking up...as though a storm was brewing...

"We need to go down." My voice was a whisper. But I couldn't help feeling that something was going to happen-something big, something inevitable and with every second it got closer.

Merrill nodded. "Yeah." Standing up, he bent and lifted Morgan into his arms. Morgan didn't protest-instead, he simply wrapped his arms around Merrill's neck and held on, as though taking what comfort he could from the hug.

I turned to Bo. "Want a ride?"

She held out her arms and I lifted her, juggling her gently against my hip, as though she had shrunk back to babyhood. Carrying her to the door, she wrapped her arms around my shoulders, her head nestling into me.

Morgan started speaking very fast, as though trying to churn out as many facts as possible before reaching the bottom of the stairs. "The aliens could be vegetarians. They'd have realised the benefits of such a diet. They could be hostile towards humans or they could be merely curious. They could-"

We reached the top of the stairs.

Morgan's voice continued. "They could be telepathic-they could be telekinetic. They're probably more advanced than us-" His voice was growing slower and I understood he was scared to stop-scared of the silence that would fall.

He grew quiet for a minute and I adjusted Bo slightly, careful not to drop her as we walked down the steps.

Morgan's voice sounded once more as we walked to the couch. "They could be reading our thoughts right now." His voice was small, scared, and he bit his lip as Merrill placed him on the cushion.

Merrill sat down beside him and rested his chin on his hands. His eyes were intent, thoughtful.  
>"They could be reading our thoughts right now?" He did not look at any of us as he asked the question.<p>

Bo and I took our places on the couch and Morgan looked at us uncertainly. When neither of us spoke, he shrugged. "Yes."

Merrill nodded once. "They could be telepathic?"

Well, duh. That was what thought reading was.

Morgan nodded again. "Yes."

Merrill nodded and sighed. "Morgan, can I ask you a question?"

Morgan nodded once more. "Shoot."

Merrill sighed. "Can you make me one of those hats, please?"

_Colleen and I lie slumped on the couch, the last scenes of Alien blasting across the screens. I watch the television disinterestedly, my eyes on the huge bowl of popcorn between us._

"_Colleen?" _

"_Yeah?"_

"_What would happen if aliens did invade earth?" I reach for a handful of popcorn, my mind more on my stomach than my question._

_Colleen doesn't tell me to shut up or that it will never happen. Instead, she thinks about it. I like that and I like that she waits a full minute before answering._

"_I don't know, Isabelle. I guess we'd have to see what the aliens were like."_

"_What if they were friendly?"_

"_Well, then, I don't know. We might be friendly back. It could be a good thing. But if they were friendly, it probably wouldn't be an invasion."_

_I frown, a new worry leaping to mind. "But what if they weren't?"_

_Colleen shrugs. "Well, then, I guess it's the end of the road." She jokingly draws her hand across her own throat as she leans forward to switch off the television._

_I shudder. "Don't do that." I know she's messing about, but thinking about her death, even in jest, for some reason, makes me shudder._

_Colleen laughs. "Don't worry so much, Isabelle." As if I had any choice in the matter._

_She presses the stop button and the end credits freeze on the screen, paused before they can finish their work._

When Graham walked through the door fifteen minutes later, he probably wasn't prepared for the sight of his brother, sister-in-law, son and daughter all sitting on the couch, donning silver tinfoil hats, staring straight ahead without speaking and generally looking as though they had just been told the planet would be irreversibly destroyed in five minutes. But that's what alien invasions do for you, make you act out of character.

That was the first thought that flashed through my mind when Graham walked into the house, slammed the door behind him and locked it, seemingly as quickly as possible. But any thoughts of humour vanished the second he turned round and we all saw his face.

His lips were pressed together in a forced semblance of calm. But his eyes-his eyes looked-wild, frantic, roiling with some suppressed emotion. If I'd had to guess at it, I'd have said pure terror.

He stood still and took a deep breath before turning to face us. We all stared back, Morgan and Bo's eyes wide.

_What had happened to him?_

If Graham was surprised by our headwear, he barely showed it. That alone told us something was seriously wrong.

Graham said nothing at all as he crossed to the stairs. He did not look at us. He merely sank down on the steps and stared straight ahead.

Merrill's voice was a harsh whisper. "Their skin changes colours." His lips barely moved as he spoke, and I stared at him, noting the pallor of his skin once again. "That's why we couldn't see them that night."

Why was he telling Graham this? He couldn't have seen the clip yet? Unless it had been playing on the radio news or some-

And then I understood. There was only one way Graham could be looking like this. Only one thing that would have left him this shellshocked.

He'd seen something. What, I didn't know. But something. Something that had stunned him. Something irrefutable.

Just like the previous night.

"Tell me something, Morgan." Graham's voice was dry, and he did not look at us as he spoke. "In this book of yours. Did they happen to detail what would happen-if they were hostile?"

The question hung for a second in the air, the final word lingering on everybody's ears.

Morgan's voice was tremulously low. "Yes." At my left, I felt Bo tense slightly and squeezed her hand gently.

Morgan carried on, his words stumbling slightly. "It said they would probably invade. They would use ground tactics-hand-to-hand combat. They wouldn't use our technology or fight an airbourne battle, because they know eventually we would use nuclear weapons. Then, the planet would be useless to them."

I barely had time to marvel at how much information Morgan had absorbed about extraterrestrials, before Graham was speaking. "How can anyone possibly know that information?"

"It's all the information we've got" I pointed out.

Graham shook his head. "It's ridiculous." There was a moment of silence. Graham squeezed his eyes shut, as though hoping for some other clues about the alien's intentions to fall out of mid-air. When none did, he sighed. "What else does it say?"

Morgan lifted his head slightly. "They said there are one of two outcomes of an invasion. One, they fight and are defeated and have to return with full forces hundreds-maybe even thousands-of years later."

"I like that option" I muttered.

A moment passed before Graham spoke again. "What's two?"

Morgan waited one second before whispering two words into the quiet of the room. "They win."

A heavy silence filled the air.

Merrill's whisper was soft. "I'm sorry-what-what book is this?" He stared at Morgan, and I sighed. Obviously, Merrill had not yet been exposed to The Big Bumper Book of Extraterrestrials, or whatever the hell Morgan had bought yesterday.

Morgan didn't bother answering. He was still staring at his father, who was gazing straight ahead, his eyes wide. Graham swallowed hard.

"Is this really happening?" he whispered. There was a moment of silence, as Graham voiced the question on everybody's minds.

We sat on the couch and waited for Graham to say something more. Anything, anything to tell us what to do, how to act, how to cope. The way he'd always done in the past when something happened, something irreversible, life-changing.

But not this time.

Graham swallowed once again. "I heard a theory that-" He sounded hesitant, fearful of hoping his suggestion may prove correct. "They don't like places near water?" He hesitated, apparently waiting, gauging the tone of our silence. "Maybe we'd be safer from them near a lake or something?"

I frowned. It sounded like something you heard out of a horror film. But then again, this whole scenario sounded like something out of the movies.

Morgan seemed to agree. "Sounds made up."

Graham sat absolutely still for several seconds. Then, in one swift movement, he got to his feet and walked straight towards the couch where we sat.

He stopped still and stared at us. "I saw one of them at Ray Reddy's house."

My heart seemed to stop beating. Bo's mouth opened and I heard Merrill's sharp intake of breath. Morgan said nothing, just stared up at his father, eyes wide.

Graham's tone was determinedly level. "And I can't be sure-" He swallowed nervously. "But I got the distinct feeling he wanted to harm me."

I stared at my brother-in-law. Millions of questions poured through my mind, but for some reason, I could put words to none of them.

Graham continued, his voice low and uncharacteristically fierce. "So, we can choose to believe this lake idea-pack up and go-" He paused, his eyes roving from one face to another. "Or we can stay here, hide inside our home, wait it out." He paused once again, apparently to gauge our reactions. "We might be overreacting, but I'm willing to live with that." He shrugged slightly. "Either way, at least we'll be together." He stared at us, waiting for some response.

Nobody gave any. There was a long silence. Some part of my brain registered that there'd been a lot of long silences that day.

Which one to pick? A choice. Sit or run. Hide or fight. Leave or stay.

Which was the better option?

The lake. It was only a theory. What if it was incorrect? Would we really be any safer there than here?

Besides, here was-here was more secure. We could lock ourselves in. We could bolt the doors. Sure, it might not do anything, but-

I swallowed and a shiver ran down my spine. They could get us out there as easily as they could get us in here.

Get us.

I'd never really considered that part of this whole invasion. What if they were hostile? What if they did want to harm us? I'd been pushing the question out of my mind for the past two days, trying to ignore it, for fear of the answers I might get.

And now, it was getting harder and harder to avoid the implications.

I shivered once again, and felt Merrill's arm slide around my shoulders. I leaned into him, automatically, not even caring that there were three other people in the room. This was an emergency.

If Graham found Merrill sitting with his arm around me strange, he gave no sign. Instead, he merely nodded once and then sighed, as though steeling himself up for an unpleasant task. "All those in favour of the lake idea, raise your hand."

So. It was going to come down to a vote. I glanced around, wondering if anyone else was feeling as confused as me.

Bo's hand rose into the air, as did Graham's. I waited, feeling the seconds tick by, thinking...

If we stayed here-what if it turned out the lake theory was correct? There was a cornfield right behind the house. It was every movie trick in the book. Yes, let's just stay exactly where we are, where we know the extraterrestrials will be landing in a few hours. That makes perfect sense. Now who wants cupcakes?

But that was what my head thought. And in my heart, I felt different.

I didn't want to leave. It wasn't my home. I didn't live here. But I didn't want to leave. It was the safest place I knew.

My hand stayed firmly at my side.

Graham stood still, his eyes flicking from one face to another. After several seconds, he swallowed. "OK.." He sighed, standing up slightly straighter, clearly already knowing what the verdict would be. Still, he presented the other option, anyway. "All those in favour of home, raise your hand."

Merrill's and Morgan's hands rose into the air. Slowly, Graham's eyes moved to my face. So did Merrill's and Morgan's. Even Bo seemed to be watching me expectantly.

Lake or house.

Water or home.

I stared back at Graham. Slowly, my hand rose into the air.

Three to two.

Graham stared at us, his mind clearly racing. "OK..."

The votes had been cast. Decision made. Verdict final.

Graham's voice was quick, fierce. "My vote counts as two."

I blinked at him. So did Merrill. Bo twitched uncertainly next to me.

_What?_

I stared at Graham. He couldn't be serious. He couldn't be. He was changing the rules just so he could win the vote? What was-

It appeared Morgan and I were of one mind.

"That's bullshit! You're cheating!" Morgan was on his feet, his eyes indignant. His fists were clenched and I couldn't help but notice he'd actually taken a step forward, as though to drive his point further home.

Graham's eyes narrowed and for a moment, I froze, sure he was going to shout at his son, tell him who was in charge, that he had to think about what was best for everyone. I felt my own eyes narrow. The vote was a way to make us feel as if we were in charge of something we actually had no control over whatsoever. Graham had hoped we'd choose the lake, make getting us there a little easier. And now we'd voted the other way.

Whether our opinion would have any impact on the overall decision would be the vital question now.

Graham's voice was low, determinedly calm and something about it reminded me of the morning of my arrival, when he'd stared at Morgan in his bedroom, as his son hurled the memory of my sister into his path. "Morgan, calm down." He took a deep breath, his gaze never wavering from his son's face. "I get two votes because I represent two parents. So it's-" He glanced around as though counting the rest of us. I sighed, knowing damn well he was fully aware that there were only five of us in the room. "Three-three." He swallowed.

Oh, perfect. Just great. What did we do now? I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Someone was not going to be happy here and for once, I did not wish to be in the firing line.

"Well-" Graham stared at his son, apparently at a loss to know what to do. "We need to decide. It's a tie, we need-I guess we could flip a coin or something-"

Ah, yes. Let's flip a coin to decide whether we live or die. How comforting.

"We don't know anything yet!" Morgan's voice was harsher now, yet smaller, more fragile, rocked by some deeper emotion. "We'll be safe, here anyway." He took a deep breath. "And I don't want to leave home." His eyes did not leave his father's face. "This is where we lived with Mom."

There was a lurching sensation in my chest, as though the world was suddenly off-balance. The room's air hung, thick with the silence of Morgan's words and all that still lay unspoken.

Graham's voice was almost a whisper. "Mom's got nothing to do with this." His words echoed, oddly reminiscent of the conversation in the bedroom, two days before, and I wondered how someone so wise, so right most of the time, could be so wilfully wrong about this. Colleen wasn't here. But she had everything to do with this. You only had to breathe and you felt her presence in the air, and the softly irreversible effect that had on every person in the room-including Graham himself.

I wondered how someone could be so wrong about something so incontrovertible. Colleen didn't have nothing to do with it. She had everything to do with it.

Morgan stared up at his father. Merrill, next to me, sat completely still, his expression unreadable. Another moment of silence hung in the air, now heavy with Colleen's memory.

_Can you hear this, Colleen? Can you see us at all? _

Bo's voice spoke into the silence-a small simple string of words. "I change my vote."

I turned to stare at her. She looked back impassively.

And then, with a soft spark in her eyes, and a small smile at her lips, she nodded once.

And somehow, I understood without having to be told.

Was I not the only one who felt my sister's presence so strongly? Was I not the only one in this room to feel her here-to close her eyes and breathe in because to breathe in these memories was, for a short, delusional second like getting a part of her back? Was I not the only one who felt her all around us?

_Can you hear us, Colleen? Are you listening out for us?_

Graham stared at his daughter. "You can't change your vote." His head shook, as though a simple movement would be enough to counteract the fact she had changed her decision.

Morgan paid no attention to his father's words. "All those in favour of home, raise your hand."

This time, only a second passed before my hand rose into the air. Mine was not the only one. Merrill's, Morgan's and Bo's arms all wavered upright, too.

Graham was left standing alone, an isolated figure in the centre of the room. "This is ridiculous" he whispered. His words sounded convincing-sad but convincing. But his eyes told a different story. His eyes looked tired. As though aware of the futility of the sounds his mouth was speaking.

Morgan stared up at him determinedly. "You lose" he told his father. "Four to two."

I couldn't help but notice the slight stress he put on that last word.

Graham knew when he was beaten.

He stood in silence for a moment, his eyes roving back and forth. They moved from Morgan's defiant expression to Merrill's cautious one, to me (I have no idea what expression I wore), to Bo's anxious, wide-eyed gaze, and back to his son again. And throughout that entire moment, it would have been impossible to tell what he was thinking or feeling at all.

Slowly-very slowly-Graham crossed to the couch and sat down. He sank to his seat in between Morgan and Merrill, both of whom moved over to make room for him.

We all stared ahead for a moment in silence, lost in our own thoughts.

_Can you see, Colleen? Can you see what is happening? Can you see what we have become?_

Merrill's arm brushed against mine. I didn't pull away. Softly, his hand moved until his palm stroked my skin. Slowly, carefully, without looking at him, I moved my own hand, feeling with my fingers until they found his palm.

I closed my fingers over his hand and held on tight.

It was then that Graham spoke. His eyes were no longer watching us or the room we stared at. Instead, they were focused on the window, on the glass. Beyond the glass.

I knew what he was looking at. I knew what he was waiting to see.

His voice was low, firm, determined. "We're going to board up every window in this house."

Brilliant. Wooden boards. A real barrier to the aliens with their superior technology.

But I didn't say anything, because, hey, even I realised this was not the time to be snarky.

Merrill seemed to be of the same opinion. "What makes you think boards will do anything?" His whisper was hoarse, and his eyes, focused so closely on his brother's face, betrayed some of the wild panic he'd given way to earlier, sitting in the closet with me.

Graham did not look at any of us as he answered. "Because they seem to have trouble with pantry doors."

My first reaction was: Does Graham realise how stupid that sentence sounds?

My second reaction was: What?

And my third reaction was: Well, maybe that's all we've got.

And that was it. That was all there was. Aliens were coming to earth. Aliens were already _on _earth. Aliens were coming to get us.

And the one defence we had was a whole load of wooden boards. A big bunch of glorified pantry doors.

Not to forget our extraterrestrial-telepathy-repelling silver hats, of course.

A half-hysterical sob rose in my throat and was quickly smothered. There was no way I was going to fall apart. Not when everyone else was holding it together. No way was I going to break down, here, now. I didn't have that right.

Merrill didn't say anything, but he reached out and his arm slid around my shoulders once again.

We all sat still. Graham's eyes were on the window. Merrill watched me cautiously. Morgan and Bo glanced at Merrill and I, at each other, and occasionally outside, as though they, like their father, expected to see an extraterrestrial army marching towards the house any second.

Nobody spoke. Nobody offered any words of comfort, any whispers of hope. Nobody put their arms around us and gave us a hug. Nobody told us everything was going to be okay.

Because it wasn't.

We sat in silence.

_Can you see this, Colleen? See what has happened? See what has happened since you left? Can you see us still holding on?_

_Can you hear us? Can you hear what we're thinking in our heads?_

_Can you hear me?_

_Do you know what's happening?_

_Can you make it stop? _

_Can you help us out?_

_Colleen-are you there at all?_

Ten minutes later, the beginnings of Operation: Survive Alien Attack had been instigated. The silver hats had, at a silent consensus, been removed.

I'd have felt a lot more confident about the name of this plan if we'd had slightly more ideas for the "surviving" part.

Still, we had some kind of plan in place.

Morgan and Bo had taken up residence in the closet with the television and were both staring at the screen avidly, their eyes wide. I'd offered to sit in there with them but all hands on deck were needed to collect the boards and begin barricading the windows. (Morgan and Bo were let off this task because they were too young. The excuses some people use.)

To this end, Merrill and I had been dispatched to the barn. Which, I couldn't help noticing, was the first time we'd been alone together since we had sat in that closet earlier that morning.

Still, it shouldn't be too awkward. I was sure discussing the possibilities of our impending doom at the hands of hostile extraterrestrials should make a nice icebreaker.

Walking the short distance between the house and the barn, my hand brushed against his and after a moment, his fingers slid into mine. My heart quickened slightly.

"What do you think?" I muttered, as we reached the bottom of the steps. "About-"

Stupid question. What did I imagine he thought?

Merrill stared at me for a moment. "I-" He shook his head. "God, I-I don't know-it-it's a lot to take in" he finished somewhat lamely. He looked at me curiously. "You OK?"

I nodded. "I guess. Scared, but-" I jerked my head back toward the house. "I don't want to go freaking them out."

There was a kind of unspoken pact between Graham, Merrill and I to try to stay calm, in front of Morgan and Bo at least. They were already coping with the idea of carnivorous aliens sucking out their brains-they didn't need to deal with three adults going crazy over it, too. _That_ might scare them.

Merrill turned to me as we reached the top of the steps and his gaze softened. "They're not here now."

I moved a step closer, almost unconsciously. "No" I agreed. "They're not."

Merrill's eyes were only an inch from mine as his hand rose to my cheek, his fingers stroking my cheekbone. "Are you really OK?" His voice was almost a whisper and I longed to lean into him, have him hold me the way he had this morning.

I shrugged. "I don't know" I said simply. "I mean, alien invasion. It isn't exactly in Life's Handbook, is it?"

Merrill shrugged. "I guess not." His hand lingered on my cheekbone a second longer and then he turned away, pulling the door open and revealing a small room with a couch beyond.

"What's that doing here?" I pointed at it in surprise, my eyes narrowing.

Merrill was already heading towards the back of the rather sparse room. "Sleep out here." His attention seemed to be mainly focused on a pile of wooden boards leaning against the wall.

"You sleep out here?" I glanced around uncertainly, seeing no signs of a bed anywhere. "Where?" The question was out of my mouth before I realised how it could be taken.

Merrill's smirk was answer enough. "Through there." He jerked his head towards a door in the corner I'd failed to notice. Gathering several boards under his arms, he took a step towards the couch, apparently looking for somewhere to set them down.

"Here, I'll take them." Lifting the boards from his arms into mine, I had to admit they were heavier than I'd expected. Then again, if they were going to be used as barricades, I supposed the stronger, the better.

"Thanks." Merrill turned and picked up the second half. He examined them worriedly. "Dunno if these'll be enough though."

He was right-there were about fifteen separate window panes in that house that would need covering up. The few boards we held weren't going to cover it. Still, it was all we had.

"Right" I turned and headed to the door. "Looks like I'll have to take these ones and you take them, unless there are any more-"

I turned to look at Merrill and stopped, my voice trailing off. He was staring at me as though he'd never seen me before. There was a silence in the room that seemed somehow audible.

"What?" My voice sounded small and uncertain, even to me. I cleared my throat, laying the boards down behind me, and tried again. "What? What's-"

Merrill dropped the boards onto the couch and walked towards me. I stared at him, stunned. What was he-

Merrill stopped directly in front of me. There was less than an inch between us now. I stared up at him, as his hand rose to my face, his finger tracing my chin. I felt myself shiver.

"What?" My voice was a whisper now. There was a palpable feeling in the air; a growing, heightened tension. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know what's going to happen tonight." Merrill's voice was low, husky. His eyes blazed yet at the same time, there was that softness I'd seen there earlier. "I don't know-" He broke off and swallowed. "I don't know if we're going to be OK."

I felt my own breath catch in my throat.

Merrill's stare intensified. "I'm not sure-" He started again. "I'm not sure how to say this." His hand moved to my hair, invariably finding the same strand he had pushed back the last few days, and once again, stroking it behind my ear. "I'm not so good with saying stuff like this." His voice was now a whisper.

My own hand rose to his cheekbone and my fingers danced across his skin. "Yeah?" I'd forgotten about the wood behind me. I'd forgotten there could be aliens creeping up the driveway right that second. All I could think about was this and him and me and how close we were.

Merrill's eyes roved down my face. "I can't-" He shook his head. "I can't stand it if something happens to you." The words were a painful whisper.

I shook my head. "Why is something more likely to happen to me than it is to happen to you?!" Yes, I knew this was the wrong time, but I was not some delicate Disney princess needing to be protected by freaking Prince Charming. "I'm just as capable of fighting aliens as you are!" I trailed off as I realised how truly stupid that sentence sounded.

Merrill stared at me for a second before a ghost of a grin flickered across his face and he let out a strangled laugh. "Geez, Isabelle.."

"What?" I tried to make my voice indignant, but it was difficult standing so close to him, close enough to feel his body heat. "I meant it-"

My voice trailed off as Merrill pulled me towards him. I barely had time to blink before his lips found mine.

Which was very effective in shutting me up.

The kiss was quick and gentle and brief, but it was a kiss and when we broke apart-I noticed with a thrill, that he was blinking in the same delightedly bemused way as me-I could feel the same strange rush of heat and longing I'd felt earlier in the closet-that wanting to kiss him again, to hold him close to me, to not have to let go of him...

Merrill's eyes were only inches away from my own and the look in them was so fierce it gave me a physical jolt. But his voice, when he spoke, was soft. "Stopped yelling at me yet?"

My hand stroked his cheek again, my mind dazed, dreaming, my eye flickering to his mouth. "Not quite yet.." I whispered, hoping he might take similar measures again to shut me up.

But to my surprise, Merrill didn't lean in and kiss me. Instead, his hand merely traced under my lips and his eyes softened again. "Isabelle.." He whispered my name, his hand now cupping my chin gently. He closed his eyes for a moment.  
>I stared at him. "What?"<p>

When his eyes opened, they were scorching. "I meant it" he said, his hand now stroking my cheekbone. "I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you. And it's nothing to do with the fact you're a girl or I don't think you can look after yourself. That's not it. I just don't want anything to happen to you." His eyes looked into mine. "I couldn't let anything hurt you." His thumb stroked back and forth across my cheek.

I stared at him, trying desperately to think of anything to say. Anything. But all thought seemed to have been stunned, silenced, eclipsed. A desperate, all-encompassing need was pouring through me, stronger than anything I'd ever felt before, and being this close to Merrill was only making it stronger.

"Merrill-" His name was the only thing I could get out of my mouth. I was acutely, powerfully aware of how close our lips were.

His eyes moved up and down my face. "I don't know what's going to happen tonight" he whispered again. "What if-this is the last time we see each other? Like this, I mean. On our own. What if-"

"It won't be-" I couldn't think like that. I couldn't let him think like that.

Merrill's eyes were filled with something fierce, something almost vehemently powerful, and yet at the same time, they seemed almost moist, liquid. "I've only known you two days." He was holding my face in his hands now. "I've only known you _two days_." He stared at me, his breathing suddenly quicker and his heart slamming faster against mine. "I should have known you longer."

I stared up at him, my own heart banging against my chest. A second passed, as his hand stroked the skin of my cheek and slowly the gap between us closed.

"Merrill-" My lips had barely formed the word before Merrill's mouth collided with mine.

And then we were kissing again, but it wasn't like it had been before; there was a raw urgency to it, a frantic passion. Merrill's hands were lost in my hair and his mouth was hot on mine and I was pressed against him, and my hands were stroking his neck and running down his back and every single kiss was harder, fiercer than the last, in the best possible way. It felt like everything I felt, everything I'd felt since I first saw him, every fantasy that had crept into my mind, was pouring into this kiss. His lips left mine for a moment and he gasped my name before pulling me back to him, one hand in my hair, the other at my back, holding me to him. I didn't pull away; I pushed further into his chest, desperate to get as close to him as possible, painfully aware that this might be the last time we'd kiss like this, the only chance we'd get to kiss like this, and determined to make the most of the opportunity.

Merrill's lips were fierce and each kiss was more passionate than the last, but his touch was gentle, as he ran his fingers across the skin of my neck, occasionally sighing my name as he did so. I buried my face in the space between his neck and shoulder, my lips murmuring over his skin, enjoying the sound of his gasp of pleasure. I realised I was whispering his name as he pressed me closer to him, his lips caressing my neck, making me sigh, letting my eyes flutter closed, before my mouth moved back to his once again.

I don't know how long it was before we broke apart. But finally our mouths fell away from each other, both of us out of breath, our hearts pounding. We didn't pull away. Instead, for a few seconds, we simply stood still, our eyes closed, my head buried in the crook of his neck, feeling the thump of his pulse against mine. Merrill's breathing was harsh and his arms were wrapped around my back, one hand at my waist, fingers dancing under the fabric of my shirt against my bare skin. I waited, my eyes closed, the frenzy of feeling beginning to subside.

Merrill spoke first. "I've wanted to do that for a while."

A while meant two days, but somehow, right now, that didn't matter as much.

I stared up at him, not knowing what to say, what to do-only knowing that I'd wanted the same thing and now that I'd had a taste of it, I wanted more and more.

But that would have to wait. There was the small matter of an alien invasion to contend with, after all.

I took a deep breath, attempting to clear my brain. "Merrill." My voice was soft as I looked up at him. "Do you think-when this is over-"_**If** this is over,_ the voice inside my head whispered. I shook my head, ignoring the words that turned me cold inside. "Do you think-we-could-" I closed my eyes. "Go out some time?" I waited, on edge, for his answer. It occurred to me that if he said no now, it would be a pretty awkward few hours ahead.

Merrill stared at me for a moment, and then his lips curved into his familiar smile. His arms wrapped around me, hugged me to him, so my face was buried in his shirt. "Yeah" he whispered into my hair. "Definitely."

For one blissful moment, we stood still, our faces hidden, our arms around each other while we could still pretend there was nothing else in the world.

Ten minutes later, however, we had to forget pretending there was nothing else in the world and get on with the job. We ended up lugging the boards of wood down the steps, wedged under our arms. We removed every board from the building, knowing it wouldn't be nearly enough. Merrill didn't bother locking the door behind him. On the way out, he lit a cigarette which he stuck between his lips. At my questioning glance, he shrugged. "Old habit" he explained, pushing the boards more firmly under his arm. I didn't bother to pursue the subject. It wasn't like it mattered now, after all.

Clattering down the steps, I noticed Merrill's gaze return to the cornfields, and stay there. I glanced over myself, my skin crawling as my eyes found the now familiar flattened stalks of corn. I shivered slightly, losing sight of the crop circles as I reached the bottom of the steps, but unable to shake the image of them from my mind.

Merrill, coming to a halt, turned and waited for me to catch up. "OK?" At my slight nod, his gaze turned to the cornfields again, his eyes curious, absorbed.

"What are you looking at?"

Merrill didn't answer. He gave me a half-shrug and set off moving again, flicking his cigarette away as he did so. I followed, my eyes flickering to the corn again out of habit.

Merrill's pace slowed, his eyes wavering once again to the crops. To my surprise, his speed decreased, his gaze becoming more and more absorbed until he came to a complete stop. The boards fell from his hand onto the grass.

I stared at him. "Merrill, what-"

He raised a hand to shush me and I subsided, my eyes narrowed. Merrill stepped towards the corn, bending over, searching the grass for something. I watched, puzzled.

Merrill found what he was looking for and straightened up. As he stepped back, I could see it was a long stone, slightly jagged, that just fit in the palm of his hand. Merrill stared hard at the crops, flicking his wrist slightly as though preparing to aim.

Then he stepped forward and flung the stone as hard as he could into the field.

Great. Let's welcome the aliens. Throw stones at them, that will keep them happy.

Merrill stepped back and stood still, his eyes darting back and forth as though expecting an alien to walk out of the crops. I stared at him. "What are you doing?"

Merrill didn't answer, and not knowing what to do, I stood beside him. What were we waiting for? The stone to fly back out of the crops, like in ET?

A minute passed by. Nothing happened.

"Nothing's happening." I glanced at Merrill, unsure exactly what I'd expected to happen. "Graham'll need the-"

A gust of wind blew my hair across my face and the cornfields waved ominously. Dimly, I became aware of the wind chimes hanging from the porch roof swaying back and forth, metal clanking against metal, so that the wind seemed to be playing an ominous, off-key tune. The sound seemed louder and louder the longer we stood there.

Merrill's eyes met mine and I could tell we were both thinking the same thing. "We need to get these inside" I whispered, my eyes darting once again to the corncrops, now rustling with the wind, as though someone was brushing them aside, moving through them towards us...

Merrill didn't object. Instead, he merely nodded, bent and picked up the boards, and beckoned me back towards the porch, with a last defiant glance cast over his shoulder at the crops. Shivering slightly, I followed him.

Reaching the house, I took one quick look back. The corn was still swaying, fiercer than ever, and the wind seemed to be picking up speed. I swallowed hard and followed Merrill inside.

The next few hours passed slowly. Very slowly. I was surprised-if I'd ever imagined what an alien invasion would be like (a feat which I had actual spent part of my childhood doing) I'd have imagined constant fear, flurry and panic. But the rest of the afternoon, spent boarding up windows, kind of-dragged a little.

At first.

I helped Merrill and Graham with the boards originally, but as I've already mentioned, sports aren't exactly my forte and when I said sports, I actually meant anything particularly physical. Including hammering.

I did pretty well for a few minutes, but it wasn't long before I narrowly missed my own thumb and a couple moments after that, somehow managed to miss my target and slam the hammer into the wall, instead of the nail. I was lucky, though-the dent wasn't that noticeable. But after that, Graham gave me a long look-a look I'd received several times from him over the years and one that generally meant to just go along with whatever he said-and asked me to go and check on the kids, see if they were all right. If the circumstances hadn't been quite so dire, I'd have made a big argument about how I was the one made to go and check on the kids just because I was a girl, but, glancing out of an unboarded window at that moment, I couldn't help noticing the wind was picking up and the cornfields were swaying violently back and forth, which somehow sent an uneasy feeling down my spine. Which pretty much reminded me that the middle of an alien invasion was not the time to start arguing women's rights.

So I ended up squeezing into the cupboard with the kids.

Morgan and Bo stared at the screen, ignoring my slightly awkward attempts at conversation (which dwindled quickly-it was kind of hard thinking of topics to distract them from the fact that there was a good chance we might all be dead by the next morning), and I quickly gave up. Instead, we watched the bulletins hour by hour.

We didn't speak too much-Morgan and Bo were pretty quiet, anyway, and try as I might, I couldn't really find much to say. The news broadcasts weren't that helpful, either. For so much going on, not much actual information seemed to be known about what was happening. Most of the tips put forward were theories, speculation-we had no way of knowing whether or not they were grounded in fact. The pictures would cut to images of around the world; more and more crop circles appearing, more and more panic-stricken faces. And of course, sometimes you'd get crazy people, shrieking about the end of life as we knew it. Every time one of these appeared, Morgan and Bo would tense and, as one, turn and look at me, as though expecting me to do something about it.

All I could do was squeeze their shoulders in a hopefully comforting gesture and nod at them, before turning my attention back to the television. And every time they sighed and turned back to the screen, with little or no reassurance, I felt a sharp pang in my chest.

But what else could I do?

We sat still, the sound of hammers echoing in the background, our own hearts sounding dully in our chests, all of us playing a waiting game.

"Isabelle." Morgan's voice broke the silence after who knew how long we'd been in there. He shifted slightly in his seat. "Do you-do you think-"

Bo turned and stared at me, her eyes wide.

My hand found Morgan's hair. "Do I think what?" My own voice was dry from the previous few hours' lack of use.

Morgan licked his lips nervously and took a deep, shuddering breath. "Do you think-" He nodded at the screen, where yet another person was waving a sign shrieking that we were all going to hell, as if we didn't have enough to worry about. "Do you think they're right?" He turned and stared at me, waiting for my answer.

I stared back. What the heck was I supposed to say? Was it better for them to be protected and unprepared or prepared and unprotected?

What would I have wanted to be said?

I swallowed hard, my hand reaching out to stroke the hair off my nephew's face. His eyes were wide and dimly I remembered nights as a child when he'd had nightmares and I'd hear Colleen go to him, and follow to find him sitting on his mother's lap, staring up at her with the same wide-eyed need for reassurance he gave me now.

What would she have said?

I knew one thing: Colleen would never have lied to her kids.

And I wouldn't either. They deserved better than that.

"I don't know, Morgan." My voice was surprisingly steady. My hand lingered on his cheek for a moment and he didn't pull away. Bo leaned into me, her head nestling under my arm. My eyes flickered over them both.

"I don't know" I whispered again. "But I know one thing. We'll be together. I promise you that. We'll all be together, no matter what happens. I promise."

Morgan nodded once. His teeth sunk into the skin of his lip and I felt his shoulders shake slightly as he turned back to the screen. "Isabelle?"

"Yeah?" Bo nestled closer to me as though anticipating her brother's question. Only it turned out to not be a question.

Morgan sighed. "I wish Mom was here." His voice was barely a whisper.

The small room filled with silence.

"I know." I didn't look at him. I couldn't, though he had turned round and I could feel his and Bo's eyes, watching me. I didn't look at either of them. Instead, my gaze remained straight ahead, even when it became clouded with quiet tears. "So do I." I closed my eyes for a moment.

_What would it be like if you were here?_

_Why aren't you here?_

_They need you. Graham needs you._

_I need you._

"Isabelle?" This time, it was Bo's voice which split the silence. I nodded quickly, ducking my head to blink away any tears.

"Why doesn't Dad talk about Mom any more?"

I stared at her. "Well-your dad does talk about your mom." Of course he did. He must do. Mustn't he?

But as I looked back over the previous two days, I realised he hadn't-not once-voluntarily brought Colleen's name up himself-certainly not in front of the kids-except for last night, sitting on the couch, when he thought only Merrill could hear him...

The image of the night before faded and I found myself staring back into Bo's big blue eyes as she sat still, waiting patiently for my response.

I tried to cover my confusion."Um-"

"That's because he doesn't want to think about her." Morgan's voice was slightly louder than usual, and in the quiet of the closet, it seemed to quiver slightly. "He doesn't want us to think about her and he doesn't want to think about her either." His eyes, in the light from the television screen, were overbright.

"That's not true" I said, my voice more confident than I felt. "Your dad wants-" I trailed off. To tell the truth, I wasn't completely sure I did know what Graham wanted.

Morgan answered that question for me. "He wants to forget" he said. There was a definite quiver to his voice this time and a tear spilled from one of his eyes. I reached towards him, but he jerked away, wiping fiercely at the tear himself. "He wants to forget that she ever existed."

"Morgan, that's not true-"

"It is true" Morgan insisted. "If it wasn't true, he'd talk about her. He'd talk about her to us. But he never does. He doesn't try to-" Morgan's voice trailed off and he stared straight ahead at the TV screen, now showing more images of lights hovering in the sky. I stared too, not knowing what else to do.

"He doesn't try to keep her" Morgan said quietly. "He doesn't try to keep her with us." He stared ahead, his jaw tense, and glancing at him, I was suddenly struck by how very much he looked like his father.

Morgan's voice was slow and deliberate. "He let her die."

I didn't hesitate, grabbing his arm without thinking twice. "Don't you say that ever again." My voice was barely more than a hiss, but Morgan shrank back all the same. "Don't you _ever_ say that to your father. _Ever_. OK? I mean it."

Morgan stared at me for a second and in the dim light of the overhead bulb and the TV screen, his eyes shone, burning, defiant. Slowly, slowly, he nodded.

I became aware of how fast I was breathing, how harsh the air felt in my chest. Slowly, I loosened my grip on Morgan's arm. Beside me, Bo was tense, her eyes huge.

I blinked, suddenly realising I was trembling. "Sorry" I whispered, at first to no-one. My eyes found Morgan's. "I'm sorry" I said my voice more clear, more direct. "But-" My hand reached out to him again, this time to land on his shoulder, not his arm. "Don't say stuff like that, OK? Ever. Just-just don't, OK?" I dropped my gaze to my lap, not wanting him to see how badly what he'd said had affected me.

Morgan's voice was low and his eyes were intense, but somehow, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. "I won't." His voice seemed somehow dead, as though drained of emotion. "I promise." He turned slowly back to the television screen.

I nodded, even though Morgan couldn't see. "OK." I took a deep breath. "OK."

Morgan stayed completely still. "I didn't mean it" he breathed, and this time, there was a whisper of pain throughout his words. He bowed his head forward, as though unable to hold it up against the onslaught of emotion he was feeling. For a second, he looked like an old, old man, older than Merrill, older than Graham himself, and much, much, much older than me.

My hand fell again on his shoulder and this time, he didn't pull away. "I know." My eyes swelled with moisture again and this time I let it fall. Bo watched, her little face solemn and serious.

"He does" she announced suddenly.

Morgan and I both looked up.

"He does talk to Mom" Bo continued. She turned her gaze back to the television. "He talks to her when he's by himself." She continued to stare straight ahead at the screen, continuing her speech with a small sigh. "But she never answers."

I stared at Bo, and for a moment, felt myself shake all over.

Morgan too, stared at his sister. "How do you know?"

Bo shrugged. "I asked him."

Morgan blinked. Bo shifted once again on her chair. "Isabelle?"

I moved closer to her. "Yeah?" One hand reached out to smooth her hair. "Yeah?"

Bo's voice was soft and simple in the shaded light. "She never answers me either."

Several seconds ticked by in silence, before my arm slid around Bo's shoulder, the other around Morgan's back and pulled them both into a hug. I ducked my head, pressing my face into their hair, so they couldn't see the tears suddenly running from my eyes.

_She never answers any of us.._

As usual, I couldn't cry for long. I sat upright, pulling the kids with me. "It's going to be all right." My voice was scared-scared and unsure-but steady. Steady. "It's all going to be all right." I stared at my niece and nephew, willing them to believe me.

Morgan and Bo's eyes were wide with equal fear and conviction. They knew the facts, but they wanted to believe. They wanted to believe it was possible everything was going to be OK.

Slowly, they turned back to the TV.

A few minutes passed in silence. Then,

"Isabelle?" The faint sound of a ringing phone overlapped with Bo's voice.

"Yeah?"

"Are you and Uncle Merrill going to get married?"

Oh, great.

Morgan nudged his sister as I laughed. "How should I know? We've only just-" I trailed off, flushing. What had Merrill and I only just begun doing?  
>Bo stared at me. "But what do you think?"<p>

I squirmed uncomfortably. "I don't know-it's way too-we've only just-it's way too-_early_-to think about any of that stuff." And certainly not with you two.

Morgan rolled his eyes. "Leave it, Bo."

Bo had a stubborn streak. "If you do, can I be a bridesmaid?"

"Leave it!" Morgan's older-brotherly command was spoken through a slightly smug grin. Evidently, he was congratulating himself on being right with his theory about Merrill and I.

I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair. But somehow, I felt lighter, happier. Just-the thought of-not the thought of getting _married-_I definitely wasn't ready for that yet-but the thought of-being happy. Having a life, a family. Something to look towards.

Having a future. Having hope.

And somehow, that made all this a little easier to face.

A shadow fell across the screen and we looked up to find Graham standing in the doorway, the phone in his hand. "You've got a call, Isabelle."

I stood up, frowning to myself. Who'd be calling now?

Outside in the hall, I got my answer. Graham handed me the phone. "Your parents" he said quietly. Without further ado, he turned and walked back down the hall, apparently heading back to his window work. I stared after him for a moment before cautiously raising the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Isabelle?" My father's voice. My stomach turned over slightly.

"Hey, Dad." My voice was suddenly flatter. I was not scared of my father. But I was not-always happy to talk to him either.

"You've seen the news?" That was my dad. Always brisk, to the point. Never any fussing around.  
>"Yep. You?" Duh, Isabelle.<p>

"You could guess that from this phone call. Your mother told me what you said this morning." There was a pause and I frowned at the receiver, wondering what the hell was coming next. "You're not coming home?"

I swallowed nervously. "No, Dad." I waited, eyes closed, braced for the onslaught.

It didn't come.

"You're-you're sure about this?" My father's voice sounded-tense. Strained. If I didn't know better, I'd have said he sounded-concerned. _Scared._

"Yep, I'm sure I'm not coming home." I swallowed once again, willing away any pangs of longing. "It-it's too dangerous now, anyway."

"It's not if you need to leave." My father's voice sounded-eager, now? "If you need to come home, then-then we'll arrange it." There was a cough at the other end of the line. "I'll arrange it." His voice was quieter than I'd ever heard.

Slowly, I shook my head. "No, Dad. I'm staying here." The sound of my own voice startled me. It was calm. Relaxed. Reasonable. Not words I typically associated with myself.

My father took a moment to answer. I frowned, wondering if he was still there or had merely put down the phone without saying goodbye. "Dad? You still there?"

"Huh?" My father's voice was muffled, as though he was speaking through a cloth. "Yeah, I-I'm still here, I just-" His voice faded into silence. I stood still, trying to remember the last time I'd talked to my father one-on-one like this.

_It is Christmas and I am standing in the kitchen, getting a glass of water. Colleen and my mother are in the family room, laughing, and over the sounds of the television, we can hear Morgan and Bo's shouts of joy and surprise as they unwrap more and more presents. Graham's voice echoes over them all, as he laughs with them, sharing in their excited gratitude._

"_You OK?" I jump at the sound of my father's voice._

"_Just getting Bo some more water" I say, gesturing to the tap, as though my father couldn't figure out where the water was coming from._

"_Good." My father ducks his head, as though worried that if he makes eye contact with me for too long, he might implode._

_An awkward silence falls as I hold the glass under the tap._

"_She's really fussy-about her water-" I point out lamely, as though my father wouldn't know his own grandchild's behaviour._

"_I know." How articulate._

"_Can't take more than one sip." I hold the glass up once again, this time, to the light, as though examining the drink for contaminants._

"_Just like you." My father's comment cuts through the kitchen air, searing across my skin._

"_I never had that with water" I mutter. But my voice is faint in reply, and holds little conviction._

_My father raises his shoulders in a shrug, as he himself turns to the sink. But, turning away, I catch his mumbled reply. "You were like that with everything else."_

_I wince, as though the comment had been a physical blow._

_My father does not turn around. He does not look at me. Instead, he remains standing by the sink, his back to me, as though I might disappear if he doesn't meet my gaze_

_I stare at my father, and among a number of other things, I wonder how we could have so little to say to each other._

Now I stood, holding the phone to my ear and wondered much the same thing.

"Dad." My voice caught in my throat and I closed my eyes, with no idea of what to say. Just that I didn't want to leave things like this with my father. I didn't want to leave everything like this between us.

"What, Isabelle?" His voice was gruff, almost gentle, and something seemed to crack in my chest.

"I-" I swallowed, searching desperately for something to say. "I-I just-"

An awkward second passed.

"Look." My father seemed to be casting around for something to fill the space between us. "Do you-do you want to talk to your mother?"

In the nicest possible way, I did not want to talk to my mother. I wanted to talk to my father but I had no idea what about. I wanted to tell him something but I had no idea what to say. And just in case-I didn't want to say it for fear of tempting fate, but just in case-I did not want this to be the last time we spoke.

But I didn't know what else to tell him.

"Yeah." My voice faltered slightly. "Yeah, sure."

"Right." My father swallowed, as though making up his mind about something. "I'll go and get her."

There was a clunk as he placed the phone down, presumably to go and find my mother. I stood still, wracking my brains for something to say, waiting.

"Isabelle?" My mother's voice was faint, breathy and sounded suspiciously as though she was trying not to cry. I closed my eyes, bracing myself.

"Hey, Mom."

"You're-you're not coming home?" Her voice caught as she spoke and I felt myself tremble slightly.

"I'm sorry." My voice was little more than a whisper. "I-Mom, I can't, I've got to stay here, I've just got to-" I swallowed. "I'm twenty-one, Mom. I'm not a child. I want to stay here." My voice cracked slightly. "I've got to stay here."

There was a moment of silence.

"I know." My mother's voice was faint. "I wish you didn't have to, but I know. I-" She sighed. "I get it."

I froze, staring down at the receiver. "You get what?"

My mother's voice was very, very gentle-a tone I could barely remember hearing from her before. "You know."

I felt my cheeks flush, and almost unconsciously, my eyes flickered to the family room doorway, where Merrill stood, examining a board. Hastily, I turned around, thinking it best to avoid distractions.

"Mom-" I blinked hard. "Mom, I-I love you."

"I know you do." My mother swallowed hard. "I'll get your father."

"OK."

There was a moment of silence.

"I love you, Isabelle."

I closed my eyes. "Love you too, Mom."

"Bye." Her voice was very, very quiet.

I kept my eyes closed. "See you, Mom."

There was another short stretch of silence. Then my father's voice came down the line.

"Isabelle? That you?"

Who else would it be?

"Yeah, Dad. It's me."

"Yeah. Well."

There was a long, awkward silence.

Brilliant. It was the end of the world. We might all be dead by the next morning. And my father and I still couldn't think of a word to say to each other. Send in the clowns.

My father sighed. "Look, Isabelle. Just-" He coughed, as though it was uncomfortable to even say the words. "Take care of yourself, OK?"

Take care of yourself. OK, Dad, I'll try to protect myself as the aliens suck out my brains. Love you too.

"And-Isabelle?"

I pressed the receiver closer to my ear. "Yeah?"

My father mumbled something. "What?"

My father coughed again. "I said I love you."

I stood still. A moment of silence passed.

"Thanks, Dad." My voice was no louder than a whisper. "I love you, too."

"Well." My father sounded more uncomfortable than ever. "I've-I've got to go."

"Wait, Dad-" I grappled for something to say, to keep him on the phone longer. "What are you and Mom doing? Where are you going?"

"We're going to the lake."

I shivered.

"Are you sure? We-we don't-"

"No, we don't." My father's voice was firm and-surprisingly-reassuring, and I was reminded of being very small, almost too small to remember, and stumbling, and feeling my father's arms grab me, hoist me upright, prevent me from falling. Keeping me safe. "But it's the best we reckon we'll-"

The phone buzzed slightly and my father's voice wavered on the other end.

I frowned. "Dad? Dad, are you still there?"

Another moment of confused static and my father's voice echoed down the line. "Yeah, I'm still-" Another wave of buzzing, then my father's voice again. "I'm still here." The phone crackled again. "Say, what's happening with the phone-" His voice became barely audible in amongst the sounds now coming down the line.

"Dad?" I pressed the phone tighter to my ear, struggling to find any logical sound amongst the crackling.

"Isabelle, I-" There was another wave of static and a sharp clicking sound, as though a series of receivers had just been put down.

Then silence.

I stood still, the phone still pressed to my cheek. "Dad? Dad!"

"What's wrong?" Merrill was halfway towards me by the time he'd finished speaking. Reaching me, he arm slid around my shoulders as I handed him the phone. "What's happened?"

"I don't know! The phone just started buzzing and it made all these weird noises and then it just cut off!" Merrill shook the phone before holding it to his ear.

"Isabelle?" Morgan poked his head out of the closet. "Uncle Merrill? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Morgan." I shook my head. "Just a problem with the phone, that's all."

Merrill was frowning. "Well, it doesn't seem to be broken." He turned to me. "What's your parent's number?"

I recited the digits, which Merrill proceeded to punch into the phone rapidly. He held the receiver to his ear. I watched him eagerly.

"Well?" I waited, my eyes searching his face for some kind of response.

Merrill shrugged, then raised his hand, apparently hearing something. Suddenly, he frowned, his face creased in puzzlement. "All I'm getting is a dialling tone." Frowning, he pressed the end call button. "Let's try someone else." He dialled another number, apparently choosing at random and held the phone to his ear.

"The book said the aliens might affect technology." Morgan leaned against the cupboard door. "It said their ships could interfere with electromagnetic waves."

Oh, great. We wouldn't even have electric power. Why didn't we just lay down our weapons, and paint "We're Helpless" on our foreheads?

Merrill stared at the phone. "Same thing." He glanced down the hallway. "Where's Graham?"

"I think he's making a start on the windows upstairs" I tugged at my thumbnail with my teeth. Merrill gently tapped my hand, guiding my thumb out of my mouth.

"What's up?" he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

I looked up at him, my eyes finding his. "I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to him" I said quietly. "I didn't get to say goodbye."

Merrill's eyes softened and his hand rose to my cheek. His lips opened and then closed, as though struggling for something to say. "Sorry" he whispered. I shrugged, my gaze dropping back to the floor.

"Isabelle." Merrill lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Isabelle, I'm sure they'll be OK."

"How do you know?" I whispered, not wanting Morgan and Bo to hear this. "How can any of us know that?"

Merrill stared at me and seemed to be struggling for an answer. "I don't" he finally said. "I just-" He looked away, apparently out of words.

I chewed my lip. "I just wanted to say goodbye" I muttered. "It's-"

Merrill nodded. "I know." He pulled me into a quick hug. "It's OK."

Morgan cleared his throat melodramatically. I rolled my eyes.

Merrill pulled back from me with a quick pat on the shoulder. "I might wait to tell Graham about this" he muttered, indicating the phone. "Given the other stuff he's got to worry about.." He glanced anxiously up the stairs, before setting the phone down on the hall-table. His eyes flickered to my face. "You OK?"

I nodded. "Yeah." Merrill gave me a quick smile and headed back to the family room window, to continue with his hammering. I turned back to the cupboard, my mind absorbed in worry.

Morgan glanced at me with an expression of concern similar to his uncle's. "Are you all right?"

I stared at him. No way was I telling him the truth right now. Yeah, I know kids are tougher than we realise and it doesn't do them good to lie to them, but in times of crisis, that's bull. They had enough on their plates without worrying about me.

"I'm fine." I nodded quickly at him, before turning my gaze back to the television screen, placing my hand on Bo's shoulder and quietly reflecting on just how unconvincing that statement sounded.

Morgan raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. I closed my eyes, lost in thought.

I just wanted to say goodbye..

"The information we're receiving comes from our affiliates across the world.."

"Dad! Uncle Merrill!" Morgan's shout was the first sound to be heard in the closet for the last three hours, that wasn't from the television.

The sounds of faint hammering died away and there came in its' place the sound of footsteps.

Merrill and Graham appeared in the doorway, Merrill still holding a hammer. I shifted slightly, peering past Morgan's head to get a better view of the television, as though the image might have changed in the last 5 seconds.

The image was the same as it had been earlier-the same lights in the sky, that had been there the night before. Except now there were more of them.

Brilliant.

The newsreader's voice continued. "Amman joins Nairobi, Beijing and Jerusalem as the latest to confirm the appearance of lights." Another image appeared, presumably the night sky over Amman, Nairobi, Beijing or Jerusalem.

"There are lights in over 274 cities." Morgan's voice was barely a whisper, his eyes wide. "They think it will be 400 within the hour." His fingers dug into my skin-an anxious reflex. "They're appearing at or within one mile of crop signs." Next to me, Bo stared at the screen, her eyes wide and shoulders tense.

Merrill stared at the television. "They were for navigation." His voice was hoarse, low as he stared at the lights hovering on the screen. My own eyes were riveted, watching them, suspended in midair, signifying the presence of the ships.

"They made a map." Merrill's voice was low. He turned to Graham, standing silently beside him. "They're going to be coming within a mile of us." His whisper was fierce.

I returned my gaze to the screen. My eyes searched the sky. Was it really possible that those ships contained aliens? Extraterrestrials? Space creatures? It was all very well to consider it but a part of me still hadn't got my head around the fact that this was actually happening.

"Dad." Morgan's voice was faint and his cheeks were white. He stared up at his father imploringly, as though pleading for some kind of comfort.

Graham's eyes flickered to his son, and he stared at him for a second, and for the life of me I could not work out what he was thinking. "Yes?"

Morgan exhaled loudly. "They think these are staged immediately preceding an attack maneuver."

"English, please, Morgan" I muttered. Under normal circumstances, I could have probably worked out exactly what that meant, but right at that second, I was more preoccupied with the idea of having electrodes fixed onto my brain by hostile extraterrestrials.

"I was wrong." Morgan's voice was louder now, and his words were short, simple, with no way to pretend not to understand. "They're hostile."

There was a very pregnant pause, during which I reconsidered and decided I preferred the wordy version. At least then, I could pretend to myself I didn't know what was going on.

"It's like War of the Worlds." Thanks, Merrill, for reminding us of that. I winced mentally at my own silent remark, berating myself for being so snippy, even non-verbally.

Merrill's fingers gripped the back of my chair, as though struggling to keep himself upright. In the dim light of the closet, his hand fell onto my shoulder.

"Ground forces have been assembled in countries throughout the globe." The newsreader on the screen trailed off, as he shifted in his seat and I found myself wondering about him. Did he have a wife? A family? Kids? Where were they? Were they sitting at home, watching their dad on the TV, praying he'd come home safe? Or did he have nobody to go home to?

"Hundreds and thousands have flocked to temples, synagogues and churches."

I involuntarily glanced at Graham. He was standing stock still, staring straight at the screen. His face was inscrutable.

The newsreader stared at the camera, apparently having given up on keeping professional calm. "God be with us all."

Even in this time of crisis, I couldn't help wondering how well that would sit with atheists. Also, well done, newsreader, for looking so panicked and striking terror into everybody's hearts.

Once again, I berated myself for a mental remark.

"I'm going to get back to the windows." Graham's voice was low and he looked away, avoiding my gaze. He ducked out of the closet, Morgan and Bo gazing after him. Morgan's eyes were wider than ever, and some emotion flickered there, an emotion I couldn't decipher.

Merrill, too, glanced at the doorway, as though considering following his brother. But then his gaze landed on us-all three of us, Morgan, Bo and I-and something seemed to soften in him. He crouched down on one knee, on Morgan's right hand side. "You guys OK?" His voice was soft, and I smiled at the fact that he'd remembered Morgan and Bo and how frightened they might be. Which they were, even if they weren't showing it.

"Some guy had a sign saying it was the end of the world." Morgan's voice was frightened now, not anxious, frightened, and there was a dangerous hint of tears in his words. I squeezed his shoulder, wishing I could be more successful at comforting him.  
>"Don't worry." Merrill's hand fell onto his nephew's arm. He watched the kids closely, his eyes wistful, as though wishing he could give them something better, something more comforting. But what else was there to give?<p>

Morgan turned to Merrill, his tone more urgent now. Bo's hand slipped into mine and I wrapped my fingers through hers.

"You won't let anything happen to us, right?" Morgan's tone was bordering on quietly frantic, his eyes pleading. He stared at his uncle, clearly willing him to answer in the negative.

"No way." Merrill's whisper was firm, reassuring and his arm had slid around Morgan's shoulder, holding him close. Beside me, I felt both Morgan and Bo relax slightly, a tiny part of their fear soothed.

"I wish you were my dad." Morgan's voice was low, but we heard every word.

I stared at him. "Morgan-"

But Merrill's voice overtook mine. "What did you say?" Morgan stared at him, flinching slightly, his eyes wide, as though shocked at himself.

"Don't you _ever_ say anything like that again." Merrill's whisper was fierce, reminiscent of mine earlier, and I cast an anxious glance over his shoulder, praying Graham wasn't within earshot.

Merrill kept his eyes on Morgan. "Ever." His hand tightened on his shoulder, as though to emphasize his point.

"Merrill-" I didn't know what I was going to say, except to calm down, to not be so harsh on him, that Morgan hadn't known what he was saying, certainly hadn't meant it.

Merrill stared at me. "What?"

But I couldn't say that last one because a part of me didn't know if it was true or not. And I hadn't exactly taken it easy with him earlier.

So I shook my head and said nothing. Silently, my arm fell around Morgan's shoulder, and my other slid around Bo, pulling them closer to me, as though I could shield them from what was coming.

Merrill was silent for a second and I expected him to leave. However, he simply turned and stared at the television screen. His hand on Morgan's shoulder tightened again reflexively.

All of us stared at the screen in silence. There was nothing more to say.

My eyes darted towards the doorway once again and somewhere inside, I made myself a promise. That Graham would never hear what his son had just said. Never.

"I need to get back to the windows" Merrill's voice was reluctant, but he stood and, with one quick glance at the three of us, ducked out of the cupboard. "You guys going to be OK?"

Merrill must have known the answer, but I gave him a quick nod anyway. What else could I say?

With a jerk of his head, Merrill disappeared down the hallway.

There was a moment of silence.

"I didn't mean it." Morgan's whisper was hoarse and he stared at his sister and I, as though longing for reassurance. "I didn't really mean it."

My hand reached out, cupping his cheek. "I know" I whispered back. "I know you didn't."

And I believed him.

Morgan blinked, his eyes full now, and beside me, Bo too reached out. Her hand found her brother's arm. She watched him quietly, her eyes grave.

Morgan trembled slightly and some tears spilt over. "I just meant-I-"

"I know." My hands stroked his hair. "It's OK."

Morgan stared at me. "Don't tell him." He watched me, beseechingly. "Don't tell Dad. Please, Isabelle. Don't tell him." I watched him and wondered if he meant his earlier words about letting Colleen die or what he'd just said to Merrill or both.

"I won't." My promise was swift and given without thought or consideration. "I won't, Morgan. I promise."

Morgan gave a great, shuddering sigh and one quick nod. He turned back to the television, his face wreathed in thought.

My mind wandered back to my own parents. What would they be doing now? Would they be waiting it out anxiously inside their home? Would they have changed their mind about the lake? Or would they be standing beside the water, sitting in a car, waiting? Would they be thinking about us? About Colleen? Me?

My eyes fluttered closed. _Please, God. Please. Don't let anything happen to them. Please._

If He was listening at all..

"Kids" I muttered, scrambling out of my chair. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Where are you going?" Morgan's voice was sharp with worry.

"I'm just going to-" I couldn't explain what I was going to do, because I myself didn't know. All I knew was that I had to get out of there for a few minutes. Had to do something to alleviate the chaos in my head.

"Get a drink" I eventually announced, using the cupboard door frame to support myself. "You guys be OK?"

Morgan gave a quick nod and shifted closer to his sister. His arm slid around her back, holding her close, protecting her.

I turned away, already determined to be as quick as I could.

A movement in the family room caught my eye. Graham was standing at the window, nailing a board, his hammering overloud and vigorous.

If there was anyone listening up there at all, I sent up a silent prayer. Please don't let Graham have heard what his son had just said. Please.

"Graham?" I took a cautious step into the room.

Graham turned to stare at me. "Hey, Isabelle." He put down the hammer, turning to pick up another board.

"Hey." I stared at him, wondering how I could have so little to say. I'd watched Graham the last two days, with a million things I should say running through my head, but now that I was face to face with him, I could hardly think of any of them.

"You guys OK in there?" Graham turned back to the window, avoiding my eyes. He positioned the next board against the wall and began hammering a nail.

"Yeah." I watched him cautiously, wracking my brains for something to say.

Graham kept his back to me, his attention studiously on the board in front of him, and something about his posture reminded me of the night before. The way he'd looked when he walked into the kitchen after taking the dog food out. The way he'd sunk into the chair and stared into space as though not seeing any of us.

Once again, I wondered what had happened.

"Graham." My voice was small, hesitant, almost scared. "What happened last night?"

Graham stood very still.

"When you went out." My voice was louder now. "You went out to feed the dogs and when you came back in, you were all-" I moved to the cabinet at the side of the room, where three of Bo's glasses stood. My hand hovered over them, absent-mindedly rearranging a couple. "You didn't seem like you."

"Nothing happened, Isabelle." Graham's voice was low and he adjusted the board slightly. It fell to one side and he stared at it, seeming glad of the distraction.

"Yes, it did." My own voice was low. "You came back in and you looked like you were about to pass out." I stepped towards him.

Graham kept his back to me. "Nothing happened." He adjusted the board again. This was the last window to be covered but I could see through the cracks that outside the afternoon light had faded. Night was approaching.

"Graham." My voice cracked and Graham stood still. Very slowly, he turned to look at me. I stared back, begging him not to lie to me. I couldn't take that on top of everything else.

"Isabelle-" Graham sighed.

"Please." I took a step towards him. "What happened?"

Graham stared at me for a moment, and then something seemed to crack. He sighed. "I saw one of them. In the corn. And I don't know what they were doing-" He trailed off, his voice suddenly tight. "And I don't know what they were doing" he continued, his voice smaller now. "But I saw them."

I stared at him. "Why didn't you-" Graham was already shaking his head, even before I'd finished my question.

"Because I didn't want it to be true" he said simply. "I didn't want it to be true. And I didn't see the point in scaring everyone if it wasn't true." He stared at me. "But now we can't pretend anymore."

I shook my head. "No we can't." I swallowed hard, fighting back a wave of questions-why, when, how-because what he'd just said made sense to me. On some bizarre level, I understood it. How you could lie to yourself and skirt and hide and avoid something right up until the moment you couldn't pretend anymore.

My hand reached out and rearranged a few more glasses. "Are you-are you-" I swallowed once again, with no idea what I wanted to say. "Are you scared?" I eventually managed. My voice shook as I spoke.

Graham looked at me for a long moment. Finally, his mouth opened.

"Yes." His voice was little more than a whisper.

"How are you acting-" I gestured around me. "You know. So calm."

Graham watched me for a long moment. "I have to" he finally answered.

I nodded. "For-" I jerked my head towards the closet.

Graham shook his head. "Not just for them" he said quietly. "For you two."

I stared at him. "Who? Me and Merrill?"

Graham nodded once. I stared at him. "But we're adults. Not kids. It's not like-"

"I know." Graham's voice was low. "But I've still got to stay strong for you both."

I took another step towards him. "What's going to happen?" I asked, and my voice was quiet now, quiet with fear of what he was going to say next.

Graham looked at me very calmly and shrugged. "I don't know" he said and I realised that that was what I had been most frightened of all this time.

"What are we going to do?" My voice was barely a whisper.

Graham sighed. "We need to eat. We need to board up the windows upstairs."

"OK." I nodded and turned back to the glasses, rearranging three more.

"Isabelle-" Graham sighed. "Could you take the kids upstairs?"

I stared at him, surprised. "What?"

"Can you-" Graham pushed his hand back through his hair, avoiding my gaze. "Can you take them upstairs?"

"Why?"

"It's just-" Graham seemed to be momentarily lost for words, before finally meeting my eyes. "I'd just feel better if they were up there with us" he said quietly. "While we're boarding the windows. I want us all together."

I stared at him for a moment. A flicker of understanding seemed to pass between us.

"OK" I nodded, after a moment. "OK."

Graham nodded briefly and turned back to the board. He smacked it once with his hand and it didn't wobble. It was as effective a barricade as we were going to get.

"Best we can do" he muttered, and I stared at the window, feeling myself shiver slightly. It wasn't easy to think that was our only defence against anyone wanting to get in tonight.

But what else did we have?  
>Slowly, I turned back to the closet.<p>

"Did you get your water?" Morgan turned to look at me. His eyes widened. "What?"

"We need to go upstairs."

Graham sat in the middle of the landing. He was still, staring straight ahead, hands on his knees. Morgan, Bo and I stood against the wall, watching him. Both the children's faces were white.

The sound of footsteps came from within the nearest room and Merrill appeared in the doorway. "There's too many windows in the bedrooms." His voice was low, and he watched his brother anxiously, waiting for a reaction. "We don't have enough boards." He stepped further out of the room, his eyes fixed on his older brother's face, as though a response.

"We'll board up the bedroom doors." Graham's voice was low, decided.

"Where are we going to sleep?" Morgan stared at his father, moving closer to me as he spoke. His hand slid into mine, and squeezed anxiously. I returned the pressure gently.

"In the family room." Graham's tone was carefully controlled, deliberately low. He did not look at any of us and I found myself staring at him, willing him to meet my eyes.

"What about Isabelle?" Morgan's voice was higher now, more uncertain, as though wanting to put off the time of reckoning for as long as possible. I didn't blame him.

"Me or the dog?" I muttered, hoping to lighten the atmosphere. Unsurprisingly, my attempt didn't succeed.

"We'll tie her up in the garage after dinner." Once again, Graham didn't look at his son while answering his question.

"Definitely hope you mean the dog." Yeah, I know. It wasn't the time to be humorous. But hey, if you can't joke about your own painful demise, what can you joke about?

Morgan turned to me, and raised one eyebrow. I got the message and shut up.

"I'll make some sandwiches." Merrill moved to stand next to Bo, his face set, determined. His eyes betrayed some of his panic, however-they were wild with frantic thought.

"I want spaghetti." Bo's small voice gently shattered the silence. I stared at her, trying to find the right way to tell a four-year-old child that most unfortunately, we didn't have time to prepare her favourite meal, because, sadly, we had an engagement with evil extraterrestrials in about an hour, who would most likely want us to become _their_ meal.

Merrill said it for me. "We should eat fast, Bo." He chucked her under the chin, as though trying to soften the blow that we might all be alien food in a very short space of time.

Before anyone else could speak, Graham's voice cut in. "Spaghetti sounds great."

I stared at him. What did he mean? Why would we waste- I stared, some small realisation beginning to form in my mind.

Still not looking at any of us, Graham spoke again. "What do you want, Morgan?"

Morgan's face was white but his voice was steady, if tentative. "Anything?"

Graham nodded, once.

A moment passed in silence. I glanced at Merrill over the top of Morgan's head and once again one of those silent flickers of understanding passed between us.

"French toast." Morgan's voice was slow, but decisive. "And mashed potatoes."

Graham nodded again, with a small smile. "Now we're talking."

For the first time, he turned towards us, meeting my gaze calmly. "What about you, Isabelle?"

I stared back at him for a long moment, running through all my favourite foods in my head. Graham waited patiently and I felt Morgan and Bo draw nearer to me as I debated with myself.

"Fried chicken and popcorn." How healthy for a last meal.

I inwardly grimaced at the words "last meal."

Graham showed no surprise at my choice. Instead, he merely nodded once. "Brilliant." Once again, he turned his head. "How about you, Merrill?"

Merrill stood still, for a long moment, his eyes fixed on his brother. Graham stared back patiently. The two watched each other, an entire conversation taking place without words.

Finally, Merrill spoke. "Chicken teriyaki."

Graham nodded again. "Good choice." He turned away, his eyes glazing slightly. For a moment, he seemed lost, drifting in thought.  
>Then he spoke, his voice low. "I'm going to have a cheeseburger with bacon." He smirked. "Extra bacon."<p>

An hour and a half later, we were sitting at the table with a bizarre assortment of food in front of us, boards on the windows and five of the grimmest faces you could possibly imagine. The atmosphere resembled that of a particularly dour funeral.

Graham sat at the head of the table. Bo and I sat on one side, each with a separate plate of food in front of us. Morgan and Merrill sat on the other side, with much the same scenario. Nobody touched anything. Nobody ate anything. Nobody said anything. The food lay undisturbed in front of us. Not one of us moved.

Some of the food actually did look good, but the thought of imminent death seemed to have diminished my appetite.

The scenario was as surreal as it sounds.

Graham apparently agreed with me.

"What's the matter with everyone?" His eyes skated around the table, travelling from one face to another. "Eat."

Morgan's voice piped up, higher than usual, and uncertain. "Maybe we should say a prayer."

An audible fission of tension ran round the table. I closed my eyes, waiting for the explosion.

"No." Graham's voice was controlled-slightly lower than usual, but controlled. I opened my eyes again, praying myself, begging for the bomb not to detonate.

"Why not?" I winced at the sound of Morgan's voice-tremulous, nervous, but determined, ready.

"We're not saying a prayer." Graham's words grated slowly into our ears.

Morgan stood his ground. "Bo has a bad feeling."

Bo, sitting next to me, slid her hand into mine. "I had a dream" she murmured. I stared at Graham, longing to open my mouth, but some part of me hesitant. Maybe this was his business.

"We're not saying a prayer." Graham's voice was harsher this time, jagged. He stared at his son, as though willing him to stop. "Eat."

Morgan, sitting far away down the other end of the table, slowly shook his head. "I hate you."  
>Merrill, Bo and I froze. Morgan's words hovered in the air, crashing down into our ears. Not one of us dared look at Graham.<p>

Graham's tone, when he spoke, was perfectly level. "That's fine."  
>Morgan's eyes were moist. "You let Mom die."<p>

The words fell into the air and hung there.

"Morgan-" Merrill and I spoke at the same time. My eyes flickered to Graham, dreading what I would see.

Graham stared at Morgan for a long moment. And the expression on his face was like nothing I had ever seen there before. Harsh. Battered. Broken. His eyes stayed on Morgan and something, something very quiet and small, seemed to snap. Beside me, Bo's hand squeezed mine. Her eyes welled with silent tears.

"I am not wasting one more minute of my life on prayer." Graham's voice ripped at the air, and every inch of it slashed at my ears. "Not one more minute. Is that understood?"

Bo let out a small sob.

Graham addressed the table at large. "Now we are going to enjoy this meal." His voice was building with each word, becoming louder and louder. "No-one can stop us from enjoying this meal, so enjoy it!" He was shouting now, his voice louder than I'd ever heard it, louder than I'd ever imagined it could be.

Bo was openly sobbing now. I slipped my arm around her shoulders. "It's OK-"

"Stop crying!" Bo jumped at her father's voice and stared up at me. More tears slid from her eyes at the sudden shout.

"Graham, she's-" Merrill stared at him, his eyes wide at his older brother's behaviour.

"It's not her fault-" I too, stared at Graham, stunned almost into incoherency, pleading with him not to take it any further, to leave it alone.

Morgan was more direct. "Don't yell at her!" His own voice broke on the words.  
>Graham sat still. There was no sound in the air but Bo's sobs.<p>

I stared at him. I couldn't reconcile it. I couldn't reconcile the man who used to smile at me, used to give me such great advice, always had a positive word about everyone, never even dreamt of yelling at his children, with the angry, isolated, broken man sitting next to me.

"Right!" Graham's voice was building again. "If you're not going to eat, I'm going to try some of everything." He leaned forward and stabbed his fork into the nearest plate of food with such ferocity that Merrill winced.

Bo's sobs grew louder and louder. I held her, her face buried in my side, her hair falling over her tear-stained cheeks, still round with baby fat. "Shhh..." My own eyes burnt but no tears fell. Merrill stared at Graham, his eyes stunned, shell-shocked, as though he'd never seen him before. Morgan's own tears were falling.

Graham pulled a piece of chicken from Merrill's plate and lifted it to his mouth, chewing at it. His face was crumpling and I watched as tears poured from his eyes. I sniffed, unable to help myself, and Bo leaned further into me.

Morgan slid down from his chair, and made his way round the table. His body shook with sobs as he reached his father. He stopped still and waited.

Graham dropped his food and turned to his son. He pulled him into his arms and hugged him. Both of them were crying and I could see, even from my seat, that Morgan was trembling.

There was a quick movement beside me and I glanced down to see Bo sliding down from her seat. She ran to her father's side and I watched as Graham pulled her into his arms with Morgan, hugging her tight to him in an apparent silent apology for the shouting. Graham and his children cried together.

Merrill and I each looked down at our plates, before raising our gaze and catching each other's eyes. We sat still, both of us slight outsiders to this moment.

Apparently, Graham wasn't having that. He leant forward, grabbed Merrill by the shirt, and yanked him towards him. It was sheer good fortune Merrill didn't fall right into his dinner.

I sat still. Oh, great. I'll just hug my pillow, then. Thanks, everyone.

That only lasted about ten seconds. Graham looked up for a second, his face flushed and tear-stained and, although he couldn't quite reach this time, motioned to me with his arm.

I got up and moved into the hug.

For a long moment-I don't know how much time passed-I just hugged the others. I buried my head in Graham's shoulder, my arm around Bo, and my hand stroking either Morgan or Merrill's hair, and I kept my eyes closed, and just hugged them. It sounds stupid and messy and soppy, I know, but that's how it was. Because everyone talks about the world ending but no-one ever comes close to imagining what it would really be like.

I don't know how long passed before a sharp, crackling sound broke the air, and all five of us looked up as one. Bo's baby monitor, sitting at the end of the table, where it had apparently been placed by Morgan, had come to life.

Not literally.

The clicking-the strange, inhuman clicking we'd been hearing so much of the last few days, was sounding again. Every light on the device was blinking red. The signal was at its' highest.

Graham stood up slowly. Keeping his eyes on the baby monitor, he headed for the door.  
>"Where are you going?" I called after him.<br>Graham didn't answer.

Morgan and Bo, glancing uncertainly at each other, both followed their father. Merrill and I, also exchanging puzzled glances, did the same. I took one last look at the flashing baby monitor before heading for the door.

Then I dashed back and grabbed a piece of chicken off my plate. I don't care, I was hungry.

I followed the others into the hall, only to find Merrill, Morgan and Bo all standing still outside the closet doorway. Inside, Graham stood rigid, motionless.

Taking a step forward, I understood why.

The television was on. But there was no image, no sound. All there was was the big Emergency Broadcast Signal. No real signal at all. The screen was white.

I swallowed hard. There was a long, long silence.

Slowly, Graham looked up at us. He nodded, his face set, and whispered two little words.

"It's happening."

**And a cliffhanger ending! Hope you enjoyed that! Reviews are great so please leave me some!**


	10. Farewell Whispers

**Hey, everyone! Thanks so much for all the views, favourites, etc.-I really appreciate it! Only three chapters left after this one-we're near the end! Sorry this is a bit late-I've been really busy with revision, etc. but I hope you like it! **

**Please review if you like the story-and I took a reviewer's tip for this chapter, to include one of the deleted scenes from the film, which I was planning on doing anyway. It's just a scene with the last story Graham tells to them all before they enter the basement.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

"_I think I'll have two kids."_

_Lounging beside Colleen on the couch, I narrow my eyes, surprised by the sudden turn in the conversation. "Two? How come?"_

_Colleen shrugs. "I'm not sure exactly." She shifts on the couch, turning to face me, apparently wanting my full attention. "It's like-"_

_I wait, frowning, leaning back on the arm of the couch, staring at my sister. Her expression is strange, dreamy yet present too, as though what she has just said makes perfect sense to anyone._

_Slowly, she speaks. "It's not like a decision." She moves her hand as she talks, as though trying to illustrate her point. "It's like-a feeling. Like something I've known all along, but haven't really looked at properly. You know? Like something you know without being told. I just know-I'll have two kids."_

_I nod. This makes sense to me on some basic level. Basic, knowing, no logic or reason to it. Some primitive, intuitive kind of sense. Call it the sixth sense, which would make a good movie title sometime._

_Colleen's voice is low, wondering, as though finding its' way along a path. "Two kids." She stares into the distance, as though seeing the mythical children, their faces dancing before her eyes, invisible to me. "Two."_

_She pulls at the thread of a cushion, yanking the material between her fingers. "I dream about them." The confession drops into the air, almost on impulse, and her eyes find mine, as though worried I might laugh._

_I pull my knees up, wrapping my arms around my legs, like an upright ball. Self-protective. "What do you dream about?" My voice is softer than I would have expected, and I wait for my sister's answer, wondering what that would be like to dream about your future children, perhaps know their names before their existence._

_Colleen shakes her head. "It's not-clear-cut." She gesticulates, as she talks. "I don't see their names or anything." A shiver passes through me, and I stare at her, the peculiar sensation that she's seeing through my thoughts coursing through me. _

"_I just-" Colleen sighs. "It's hard to explain."_

_I stare at her. That's exactly how I feel, about my thoughts, every day of my life. And I'm only ten, so how long's it going to last for?_

_I sense that is not the way to persuade her to open up to me. "I'm-" I, too, drop my eyes to the couch. Odd-I don't usually feel awkward around Colleen. She's usually the one I could go to with anything, trust with any secret. I wonder why the very act of discussing children would feel so bizarre. _

_I swallow, force myself to look my sister in the eye. "I'm listening."_

_Colleen keeps her gaze lowered. "It's not like I see them-exactly. I just feel them-nearby. And I know they're going to be mine. I know it. And I can sort of see them, but not usually, you know? Not the way I'm seeing you now."_

_I nod. "But you-see them-like a dream?" I smile. " A dream within a dream?"_

_Colleen nods. "Kind of." She smiles softly, her eyes distant. "Yeah, that's what it's like-a dream within a dream." She shifts her position. "Or a dream of a dream." She gazes into the distance, apparently lost in thought._

"_Are they boys or girls?" I watch her, desperate to get her attention again. I love it when Colleen talks with me. It makes me feel important, alive-like I really matter._

_Colleen smiles. "Both. A boy and a girl."_

_I grin. "Which is older?" _

"_The boy." Colleen rubs her stomach, apparently unconsciously. "I can see them, kind of. But at the same time-not usually."_

_I stare at her stomach. "Are you pregnant now?"_

_Colleen laughs, shaking her head. "Definitely not. If I were, you'd be an aunty." I smile. "I'd like that."_

_Colleen leans over, brushing the hair off my face. Her lips land on my cheek. "I promise you." She leans back, the kiss settling on my skin. "One day, you will definitely be an aunty."_

_I smile again, leaning into her. My head falls into her lap, and her hand strokes my hair. My eyes find the television screen, my thoughts wandering into the future, a future with Colleen and Graham, and a niece and a nephew, two children giggling, their laughter carrying through the air as they play in the corn._

Standing at the top of the stairs, Morgan, Bo and I watched Graham and Merrill prepare the last of the barricades. Wooden boards. How secure.

Bo slid her hand into mine and Morgan followed suit. I didn't pull away. Instead, I merely squeezed their fingers gently, hoping to provide some comfort, in a situation where there was virtually none to offer.

Merrill stood at the other end of the landing. He hammered frantically, fixing a final board to a door. The hammer flew back and forth, making me wince with each bang, occasionally missing the nail altogether. Graham stood just out of view, inside his own bedroom. I could barely see him, but from what I made out, he was standing still, staring straight ahead. The hammer dangled uselessly at his side.

Look, I knew Graham was probably just taking the time to say goodbye to his memories, and to have one last glance around his bedroom, and I could appreciate that, I really could.

I just would have preferred it if he could pick up the pace a _little?_ I mean, it wasn't a priority or anything, but we did have aliens due for an invasion in, ooh, a little over ten minutes. And it would be awfully rude not to be ready for them.

I sighed, tapping my foot. My eyes flickered down the stairs, to the front door, almost expecting to see an alien standing there, selecting which of us looked the tastiest.

A movement caught my eye and I turned back to the landing. Graham had stepped back, still gazing at his bedroom window, now standing in full view of the doorway. Morgan and Bo tensed slightly, both of their eyes fixed on their father. Merrill didn't seem to notice, his attention fully focused on hammering the final nail into the wood.

When Graham spoke, his voice was soft, but clear, and even if you tried, you couldn't have done anything except listen to every word.

"Did Isabelle ever tell you what happened the first time I met her?" Graham did not look at anyone as he spoke, yet I sensed he was addressing all four of us.

Morgan and Bo stared up at me. I stared back, at a loss as to where Graham was going with this, and unable to work out why he'd suddenly decided now was the time to relate family anecdotes.

Slowly, both Morgan and Bo shook their heads. Graham seemed to sense the movement without looking. Slowly, his features split in a smile.

"She was eight when I first met her." Graham's voice was louder now, and I felt my stomach twist slightly, remembering that first meeting as well as he did.

"_What's his name?" I ask. I am sitting on the stairs, watching my mother walk briskly up and down, a sure sign of nerves._

"_Graham." My mother's voice is terse, brief. I frown, clutching my book tighter to my chest._

_"How old is he?"_

"_I don't know." My mother runs her hands through her hair. "A little older than she is, I suppose."_

_I frown. A little older than she is. Not specific. It worries me and my stomach knots slightly. I like to know things. It makes me feel better._

"_You're in the way, Isabelle." My father's voice crinkles my stomach even more, and I slowly shift to the side. He rolls his eyes as he heads past me, and I huddle, curling further in on myself._

_The doorbell rings and I curl up more. I don't like meeting people. I mess it up. I'm OK with knowing about them. Not good with seeing them._

_But my mother is already answering the door. I press the book tighter to my cheek, as though I can hide inside its' pages._

_I hear the exchange of hellos, and I scamper a few steps back up, high enough so I can see without being seen, watch without being watched. I stop still, turn back, eyes wide._

_My parents and Colleen are visible, but ironically, Graham Hess-the only one I haven't seen before-is not. I can hear his voice, though. Something about it is warm, comforting-I can imagine him addressing large crowds of people, calming them down._

_I squint through the banisters._

_Then Colleen calls my name. _

"_Isabelle?"_

_I stand up slowly. I swallow and wipe my suddenly sweaty palms on my jeans._

_"Isabelle?"_

_I take a deep breath and head down the stairs to meet my sister's new boyfriend._

"You came down the stairs." Graham's voice was soft now and I barely breathed as I listened. "And you looked up at me and I smiled at you. And you held up a book and you said "I'm reading this.""

I swallowed hard, my eyes burning.

"And I said "Are you?" and you said "Yep. It's my favourite book." Graham did not look at me as he spoke. Instead, he simply gazed off into the distance.

"That was the first time I ever spoke to you." His voice curled up at the edges, warmth creeping in like a sun ray through clouds, a beam of light shining in what could easily have turned into pitch blackness.

"And I remember what you said afterwards, too."

I stared at him, waiting, remembering the words that had poured from my mouth that evening.

_Graham is getting into his car, Colleen standing beside him. My mother leans against the porch, her lips curved into a smile. She stares at my sister, and there is a sweet sort of sadness in her eyes. I watch her, not understanding. All I know is that I like Graham. I like him a lot, and more importantly, so do my parents. I'm only eight, but I already know that adults act like kids' opinions don't count._

_But my parents like him. They couldn't stop grinning at him all through dinner. And I like him, too. He's one of those people who always knows when to speak and when to stay quiet, when to chip in and when to shut up. The sort of person my parents take to. Even my father is smiling._

_But Colleen smiles the most. She can't stop. Every time she looks at him, her face cracks into a grin, and her eyes dance, kind of like the Catherine wheels on the Fourth of July. And I watch her._

_When I was really small, tiny even, I heard something that always stuck with me. I don't know where or why or how I heard it, but hear it I did, because it's been dancing around my head ever since._

"_The person you love will be not the first person you see, but the last person you watch."_

_I didn't understand it before. How could the person you loved always be the last one you watched? Did it mean that right up until you died? What if you died away from them? I puzzled it over for hours in my head, and over and over again, failed to understand._

_But now, watching Colleen and Graham, I think I do. Colleen's eyes have followed him all the evening and I don't think he's looked away from her once. I don't mean looked properly-of course he hasn't just sat and stared at her, all evening-but somehow even when he was watching me or Mom or Dad, somehow, he still seemed aware of Colleen and I had the impression his heart followed her when his eyes couldn't._

_Maybe that's what love is._

_Colleen leans forward, silhouetted in the sunset, and kisses Graham's cheek. I watch, thinking about all the things he told us this evening. How he became a priest because he wanted to help people, wanted to help them find the same happiness he had. How he has a younger brother named Merrill, who's thirteen-five years older than me-and is baseball-mad, playing every night, always swinging the bat as though it is a sword. How he believes everything-even the things that seem inconsequential, which I might have to look up in the dictionary later-happen for a reason, even if we can't see it._

_Apparently, the moment Colleen and Graham have been looking forward to all evening, despite the success of the meal, has arrived. With a quick touch of their mouths together, Graham bends down and slides into the car. Colleen is dropping him off home-their first time alone together all evening. He turns, waving to the three of us, my father, my mother and I, standing on the porch, watching unabashedly, as though trying to decipher the secret of their happiness for ourselves._

"_Bye, Isabelle!"_

_Graham's voice sounds through the evening air, a farewell just for me, and my face lights up in a smile._

_And for some reason, I can't let him go yet._

_I scamper down from the steps before my parents can stop me, my feet carrying me forward, crunching across the gravel to Graham's car. I hear my father's voice call out, irritated, behind me, but my mother shushes him as I skid to a stop._

_Colleen tousles my hair. Graham doesn't seem the least surprised by my sudden entrance. Instead, he just smiles at me. "Want to say goodbye?"_

_I stare up at him and Colleen. For some reason, the image blurs slightly, the sunlight shining in my eyes, and I realise that, in her long blouse and skirt, if I tilt my head to the side slightly, Colleen could almost be wearing a wedding dress, standing in the evening sun._

_My mouth opens. "I'm going to give you that book I was reading one day." I blurt the words out, my eyes fixed on Graham's face. His smile widens. "Thanks, Isabelle." His hand too, reaches out, chucking me under the chin. My smile brightens. "Which day did you have in mind?"_

_The words tumble out. "The day you and Colleen get married."_

_I hear Colleen's gasp, feel her hand tighten on my shoulder as she turns to Graham, her eyes already widening in apology. I feel the sudden tension from the front porch as my parents watch, unsure of my exact words, but fairly certain I've said something disastrous._

_But Graham doesn't look worried or bothered. On the contrary, his smile widens even more. "Good book?"_

_I nod._

"_Well, then-" and with one arm around Colleen's waist, he pulls her closer for a hug. "I guess I'll just have to marry your sister one day, won't I?"_

Slowly, Graham turned his head to look at me.

"That night, when your sister dropped me off home, she looked at me and said "What Isabelle wants, Isabelle gets." And I said, "Well, I guess I'll just have to do what she says."" His face broke into a smile and for a moment, he looked exactly like the man I met that night, the man I once believed could do anything in the world, other than make things fly.

I didn''t realise there were tears in my eyes until one escaped, a trace of liquid over my skin.

The hammering in the background continued but it was quieter now, almost as though Merrill had purposely slowed his speed.

Graham's footsteps echoed softly across the floor as he walked towards me. His arms wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me in for a hug.

I buried my head in my brother-in-law's shoulder and closed my eyes.

When we broke apart, Graham's lips smiled at me, his face only a few inches from my own. "You gave me that book that day." His voice was soft, as he finished the story. "I've still got it." His words were quiet, but I heard every one. "I haven't looked at it in six months, but I've still got it." He touched my forehead to his for a moment. "And on our wedding day, I remember, you were terrified, poor kid, you were only nine and you were scared you were going to trip up, going to ruin everything-but you got through it."

I nodded, my eyes swimming now.

"And at the afterparty, you came up to us. Your teeth were gritted and your face was white because you hated talking in front of people, but you walked right up and tapped my arm. And when I turned to look at you, you handed me that book. You looked up at me and said "I told you I'd give you that book the day you married my sister and I always keep my promises." And I looked back and said "It was a promise?" And you looked at me for a moment and then you said "No, but in here-"Graham pointed to his chest. ""I made it one.""

I nodded, slowly, my arms still wrapped around Graham's shoulders. He laughed and lifted a hand to my cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

"I always remembered that about you" he whispered softly. "You could make something out of nothing. And you never gave up on an idea. Never. Even when it seemed impossible." Once again, he touched his forehead to mine. "I always knew that about you" he whispered.

I sniffed, and this time it was me who instigated the hug. Graham's laugh was low and soft in my ears. I closed my eyes, blocking out the world temporarily as we embraced.

After a long moment, Merrill's voice broke the silence. "Graham, hurry."

Graham drew back, cupping my cheek for a moment. He nodded once before turning back to the bedroom.

Slowly, I stepped back, lost in thought.

Morgan and Bo, stood on either side of me, looked up nervously but said nothing.

Graham backed out of his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. I flinched at the noise as Merrill moved across to help. Together, the two began hammering a plank of wood over the door frame.

I stared at them, wondering how the hell these planks of wood were going to protect us against beings with the ability to travel thousands of light-years across space and apparently take a passing glance at our thoughts whilst they were at it.

Merrill was hammering harder now, his eyes fixed and teeth gritted, in apparent determination. Of course, he was also holding a nail in his mouth, which may have accounted for the gritted teeth.

Bo was clutching my hand now, squeezing so hard that I was pretty sure I'd be left with permanent indentations in my skin. Morgan, at my right, was leaning into me, his cheek against my arm, and I could feel him trembling as he watched his father.

I swallowed, turning back to watch the final preparations.

Graham stood back, letting Merrill take over the hammering.

"Did I ever tell you what happened when you were born, Bo?"

Next to me, Bo slowly shook her head. Her eyes were wide, and looking at her, I was struck once again by how strongly she resembled her mother. Even though Merrill was still hammering, a quietness seemed to descend over the room, a hushed stillness as we waited for Graham's next words.

He laughed softly. "You came out of your momma" he said, his voice still low, almost a whisper, as though he were still amazed, still stunned all these years later, at what had happened, at the child he had received. "And you didn't even cry. You just opened your eyes and looked around the room at everybody."

Next to me, Bo gripped my hand hard. I watched her, watched the silent attention on her face as she listened, engrossed, to her father's story, perhaps the first time she'd ever heard him tell it.

Graham's voice continued, as he pushed at the board with one hand. "And your eyes were so big and gorgeous that all the ladies in the room just _gasped_." Even with his back to us, I could tell he was smiling. "I mean, _literally_ gasped." He paused for a second before continuing. "And they all said "Aww. She's like an angel."

Bo's hand slid out of mine. She glanced up at me, her eyes wide in a silent question, and I nodded. Slowly, she turned towards her father.

"And they all said they'd never seen a baby so beautiful."

Bo padded across the landing towards him. Graham stood still, aware of her approach without even turning around. Morgan's hand slipped into mine as we watched the two. Merrill was still hammering, but he seemed to be trying to do so as quietly as possible, as if worried about disturbing the nostalgic farewell atmosphere, with this annoyingly noisy yet necessary task.

"And then-" Graham crouched down beside his daughter, gazing at her, eyes staring into hers. "You know what happened?"

Slowly, Bo shook her head, her eyes wide, the hints of a smile breaking at her mouth.

"They put you on the table to clean you up." Graham's eyes remained on his little girl's face as he spoke, never once looking away from her. "And you looked up at me and you _smiled."_

Bo's face was wondrous, a small, sweet smile dimpling her cheeks. Her eyes were wide, full, and she stared at her father, absorbed, wondering.

"They say babies that young can't smile." Graham's hand raised to her hair, finger stroking her cheek. The look on his face was familiar and yet entirely new, the same one I'd seen when I'd walked into the hospital ward, on Bo's first day on earth, and seen him holding her, as he'd confessed he'd been holding her ever since Colleen had passed her to him, unable to put her down. It was the same face I imagined anyone to wear, seeing their baby for the first time, and there are no words to describe it. It's one of those things where you don't even try to find the words, because to describe it would take something away from it, cheapen it somehow. You simply hold it and appreciate it for what it is and marvel that it has been given to you.

Graham stared at his daughter. "You smiled." The words were low and soft and spoke a million phrases in that one sentence.

A moment passed before Graham rose to his feet. "Let's go down now." The words held no hint of fear-almost instead, a quiet peaceful acceptance of whatever was going to come next. And rather than setting my mind off wondering and panicking, as that attitude usually would, I simply nodded, and placed my hand on Morgan's shoulder, guiding him towards the stairs. We would meet what would come when it arrived.

_The baby lies in my arms, staring up at me. Morgan, six years old, stands at my side, his lips pursed as he stares up at his new sister._

_I hold her gently, watching the way her eyes blink slightly, roaming to my face, as they focus as best a one-hour-old baby's can. I stare at her, making sure my face wears a smile-she'll already be taking stuff in._

_She watches me. I didn't think newborn babies could focus properly, but this one seems to. Her eyes stay on my face the entire time, not looking away once. I watch her._

"_Hey" I whisper, my finger stroking her cheek cautiously. "You OK?"_

_As if the baby will answer._

"_What's her name?"_

_My sister watches from the bed, and I wonder if she remembers that prediction she made years ago, her prediction of two children, a boy and a girl. A prediction that has been fulfilled._

_Exhaustion drips from her eyes, but her smile is incandescent. She watches her daughter, a small sense of pride in the lines at the edge of her lips._

"_Bo." She shifts slightly on the bed, Graham bending to kiss her. "Her name's Bo."_

_I turn to my niece, my new niece, and Morgan pulls gently at her blanket. "Careful, Morgan." I pat his shoulder, hold Bo closer. The last thing this baby needs is to go flying onto the floor._

"_Hey, Bo." My finger strokes her cheek once more. "I'm Isabelle."_

_Graham swears Bo has already smiled and I keep my eyes on her just in case. And watching her closely, there's something here. Some glint, some hint at a smile, at a secret message between the two of us._

_I smile back. Maybe Graham's right, after all._

I waited, watching Merrill swing the last board into place, gesturing Morgan to go on ahead. Graham, lifting Bo into his arms, glanced over at Merrill, looked from his brother to I, and nodded once, a quick gesture of understanding. He, Bo and Morgan stood still, at the top of the stairs, waiting, while I walked, my heart quickening slightly, to stand beside Merrill.

Yeah, we weren't alone. But this might be the last time we spoke to each other. And I had to make it count.

Merrill slapped the board, and when it didn't shake, turned away, apparently satisfied. Noticing me standing behind him, he stopped, his eyes locking with mine. "Ready?" He motioned with his head to the stairs. Dimly, I was aware of Morgan, Bo and Graham's eyes all burning into our backs.

"Yeah." My voice was low and I stepped closer to him. I was ready to go down, to face whatever was coming next, but I stood there, looking at Merrill, not entirely sure what I was waiting for.

Merrill looked at me, his eyes strangely calm and quiet, for a long moment. Then, very slowly, he stepped forward, bent his head to the side and taking my chin in his hands, very gently kissed my mouth.

It only lasted for a second but it was gentle and soft and sweet, and even though we both pulled back quickly, conscious of our audience, I knew that out of all the times we'd kissed so far, this one was one I'd always remember.

If I lived to always remember it.

Merrill's hand slid into mine as we turned away from the door. I glanced around the landing one last time, before heading for the top of the stairs, where Graham, Morgan and Bo stood waiting.

My eyes flickered to my nephew and niece's faces, as Merrill and I dropped each other's hands, Merrill bending to lift Morgan into his arms. Both of them stared back at me, their eyes wide. Outside, the wind seemed to pick up, as though sensing the imminent danger.

I don't know how we all knew in that moment, but we did, on some level. None of us questioned it. All of us, in our own thoughts, our own way, knew that we were nearing the time. Nearing the time that whatever we would have to face would arrive.

The final seconds were passing.

We walked down the stairs without saying a word.

Morgan and Bo were each draped over a shoulder. Bo's arms were wrapped around her father's neck and Morgan's face was hidden in Merrill's shirt, as though protecting himself from what was coming. I walked in between them, my hand reaching out to stroke Bo's hair, pushing the strands back off her face in a futile gesture of comfort.

As we reached the hall, the sound of barking became audible. Not just any barking. Loud barking. Frantic barking. An animal in pain.

A horrible realization flickered in my head. Glancing at Merrill, I noticed his jaw tense, his eyes flashing with panic. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing as me.

If he wasn't, Morgan was. His voice broke through the air as Merrill placed him gently on the floor. "We forgot about Isabel."

I would have made yet another joke about hoping he meant the dog, but the whole thing was getting old, and with a painful death imminent, this wasn't the time.

Plus, I was too distracted to be sarcastic.

Isabel's barking was not subsiding. Instead, she was getting louder and louder, sounding more and more panicked. Bo's hand reached out and slipped into mine. Her fingers clung tight, digging into my palm, as did Morgan's on my other side. His fingers were damp with sweat.

The barking was not stopping.

All five of us stared ahead, at the boarded-up windows, as though hoping to see through walls. Then again, I wasn't sure how much of the events outside I wanted to see.

A high-pitched squeal cut through the barking. A squeal that quickly overcame all sound. A squeal which quickly turned to whimpering. Frantic, desperate whimpering, as though a creature's air supply was being cut off.

My stomach lurched reflexively.

Morgan and Bo were still, apparently frozen with horror, eyes fixed straight ahead. Graham and Merrill each held a child's shoulders, their fingers digging into the fabric, though just whose tension they wanted to relieve was unclear. We waited, barely breathing.

The whimpering stopped.

Somehow, the silence that followed was far, far worse than the previous sounds of pain.

Slowly, Merrill and I turned to stare at each other before both of our glances swung to Graham. In that moment, the three of us each saw our own expression on the other two's faces. And there was nothing we could do at all.

The wind-chimes swung outside. My hands moved to Morgan and Bo's shoulders.

Footsteps on the porch. I felt a drop of sweat collect at my neck, and didn't dare lift a hand to wipe it away. My own grip tightened on the children's shoulders. Neither of them pulled away.

There was absolutely nothing we could do, and for the first time, I understood what it meant to have your insides turn to water.

All our eyes were focused on the wooden boards nailed across the windows. On the cracks in between the boards. The cracks that gave us a tiny, brief glimpse to the outside world.

A shadow moved.

Morgan and Bo were trembling now. I moved back a step, pulling them with me, as did Merrill, as though moving one pace away from the windows would really make the slightest bit of difference.

My eyes skittered around the room, jumping to the other two windows. I stared at the cracks between the boards, my heart bruising my ribs, my shoulders tense as we watched, waiting.

Another shadow. Morgan was gripping my hand so hard I'd have been worried about my bones had there been any point in worrying about injuries at this stage. It would have been hypocritical to worry. I was squeezing his hand back the same way. The fear rolled off us in waves.

Another one, across another window this time. A window in the wall nearest us.

Two of them. Making their way around the house. Towards the front door.

Another shadow.

My eyes flashed to the door-with one plank of wood serving as a barricade. I swallowed. My arms prickled, and my stomach contracted. My eyes burnt, and for a moment liquid nausea seared my throat.

There was a loud bang.

All of us jumped, my heart nearly flying out of my chest. My stomach lurched as we spun towards the back of the house, expecting to see the door hanging off its' hinges. Morgan and Bo's hands tightened painfully in mine. I stared down the hall past Merrill's shoulders, my eyes wide, burning, waiting for it-

Another bang, this time at the front door. This time, the room spun slightly and for a moment, I clutched Bo's hand even tighter, the walls blurring before my eyes, the edges wavering and turning black. I closed my eyes, willing myself to remain upright.

A slight whimper from Bo's throat dragged me back from the edge of unconsciousness. I had a confused glimpse of the family room, and for a brief second, my eyes alighted on the water glasses. From both my arranging and my refusing to arrange over the last few days, my mind vaguely registered, they had formed a kind of pattern. I noticed three forming a kind of triangle shape on the sideboard across from the door. It was strange, the things I noticed in that moment. At the same time, some part of my brain realised the boards of wood weren't completely straight and that actually bothered some ludicrously pedantic part of me.

Then another bang yanked my gaze and attention back to the front door.

Bo whimpered again, louder this time. I clutched her hand, my arm moving around her shoulders, as though offering her some vague hint of protection. Merrill's hand landed on my arm for a moment, before he, too, gripped his niece's shoulder, holding her close.

I stared at the plank of wood serving as a barricade, which suddenly looked very fragile indeed.

Another bang rattled the door and the wood seemed to bend slightly. My knees almost buckled, and once again, I had to close my eyes to stay upright. Only the feeling of Morgan and Bo's hands, gripping mine so tightly, the feeling of them relying on me, forced my eyes back open.

There were footsteps now-faint, running footsteps. I froze, rigid. They were moving around the house. One more blow and the front door would fall in.

Hot liquid pushed at my eyes as I glanced at Morgan and Bo.

Bo was trembling now, her nails digging into my hand. Morgan stood still, his eyes wider than I'd ever seen them. "Dad.." His voice was barely a whisper.

Slowly, Graham turned to look at his son. His eyes were soft, absent of the fear I had expected and he stared at him for a long moment, as though coming to a decision about something. Taking a step towards his son, he lowered himself into a crouching position.

"Did I ever tell you how you were born, Morgan?"

Merrill touched my arm as he stepped forward, leaving Graham and Morgan a few paces behind us, giving them what little privacy we could while facing imminent death. He placed a hand on Bo's shoulder, steering her forward, too. My hand, reaching behind Bo's shoulders, found his, our fingers interlacing. He didn't pull away.

Graham's voice was soft but we could hear every word. "You came out and your momma kept bleeding. So they rushed you out of the room before I even had time to see you."

I swallowed hard, my hand tightening on Bo's shoulders.

Sudden footsteps from overhead...scurrying feet..

"They're on the roof." Merrill's voice was strained with the effort of not giving in to panic. He stepped forward, his back to the door, staring up as though he could see the aliens through the ceiling. Bo stiffened, her face turning upwards, her eyes staring into mine.

Morgan glanced up, but his gaze dropped straight back to his father's face. Graham's voice continued, slightly quicker now. "And while they were fixing her up-" He swallowed, his eyes never moving from his son's face. "All she kept asking about was you."

Something smashed upstairs. Bo grabbed my hand, and I slid my arm around her shoulders, pulling her to me. I squeezed my own eyes shut, Bo burying her head in my stomach, my hands stroking her hair.

Merrill's voice was more urgent now, fighting back a wave of hysteria. "They're in the house." My stomach lurched.

Morgan tilted his head, his eyes widening, but Graham's hand cupped his chin, pulling him back to face him.

"I wanted your momma to see you first." Graham's voice was suffused with an urgency bordering on franticness, as he stared at his son. "Because she had dreamed about you her whole life." Morgan's eyes were wet as he stared at his father.

The footsteps were quickening upstairs, and I pressed Bo's head further into my shirt, hoping she wouldn't see, wouldn't hear, despite knowing it would do no good. Merrill was tense, his hand reaching for my arm, his body angled slightly in front of Bo and I, as though determined to protect us for as long as possible.

Graham's eyes stared into Morgan's as he finished his story. "And when she got feeling better, they brought you in, and they placed you in her arms." His voice grew softer, as though back in the hospital room with them both, seeing his newborn son for the first time. I stood, listening, my eyes focused on the stairs, but my mind simultaneously straining to hear the rest of the story.

Graham almost whispered the final lines of his memory. "And she looked at you, and you looked at her, and the two of you just stared at each other, for the longest time. And then she said, real soft-" Graham swallowed. "Hello, Morgan. I'm your momma. And you look just how I dreamed."

Morgan sniffed. There were tears in both his and his father's eyes, neither of them making any attempts to hide them. Graham smiled, a sweet, sad smile, letting out a soft laugh, as he wiped a drop from his son's cheek.

_Colleen lies back in the hospital bed, and I watch her, shocked by the pallor of her skin. She smiles weakly up at me. "Hi." Her tone is soft, simple._

"_Hi." My own reply is monosyllabic, borne of confusion, of lacking a clue what to say next. I watch her, my eyes wide, stunned at how pale she is._

"_Is he OK?"_

_I know without asking that she is referring to her baby. Morgan- that's his name. The name of my nephew. I'm only eleven and I'm an aunty._

"_He's fine." Graham is standing outside, rocking his son back and forth. I stare at Colleen for a moment, and she pulls herself upright in bed. She is struggling but manages to give me a weak smile._

"_Do you want to go and see him?"_

_I nod, turning to the door, but Graham is already walking back inside with the baby._

_I stare at him-I haven't had a proper look at him before. Graham is beaming, his eyes shining, as he lowers Morgan gently into his mother's arms. Colleen gestures to me, and I walk slowly to the side of the bed._

"_Sit down." Colleen pats the space beside her and slowly I sink into a sitting position, my eyes still flickering anxiously to her face, noting the drained look in her eyes. Our parents are right outside in the corridor, having already seen her, already held their grandson._

"_Here." Slowly, Colleen reaches out, Graham taking hold of my hands as she does so, positioning them cautiously. Gently, Colleen places my nephew into my arms._

_I barely breathe as I hold him, feeling the heaviness of his little body shifting gently against my chest, his lips pursing and relaxing in a small breath of air. I stare at him, my own lips parting, as his head turns to the side, drifting back into sleep._

_"Hey, Morgan." My voice is soft. "Hey. I'm Isabelle." My hand slides to his cheek, stroking the skin gently. The baby sighs, shifting in his sleep, his mind dreaming._

_I stare down at my nephew, Colleen's voice faint in the background. "He's perfect." Her voice is a whisper laced with tears, happiness weighing down the words._

_My eyes stay on Morgan's face and I remember her words from a year ago, about having two children. I smile to myself. Maybe there was some truth to her prediction after all._

A sudden scrambling from above pulled all of our gazes to the stairs. I searched the landing with my eyes, Morgan and Graham both turning towards the banisters, my heart pounding in my chest. Something was off...something wasn't right...

Merrill's voice was a hiss. "The attic door.."

My gaze flickered to the ceiling. The attic door sat, a square gash in the white ceiling, the cord hanging down as per usual, completely and utterly unboarded.

My heart lurched in my chest.

Merrill was already moving before I could blink. His footsteps clattered on the stairs, halfway up before I'd had time to register what he was doing.

"Merrill!" Graham called out before I could, Morgan and Bo's pale, upturned faces watching their uncle disappear up the stairs.

"Merrill, just come down..." My own voice trailed off as a sudden wave of fear washed over me. Merrill was at the top of the stairs, now, and the clattering from the attic was growing. I swallowed, nausea clenching my stomach, as I watched him. "Merrill..." I struggled to breathe.

_He's going to be fine...he's going to be fine..._ Bo's hand slid into mine and gripped tight.

"Merrill, leave it..." Graham's voice carried little conviction, as though he already knew the outcome of his words. Merrill was on the landing, taking no notice whatsoever. I stared up at him, willing him with my eyes to come down.

"Oh, God..." My voice crawled, unbidden, from my chest, and my skin felt stretched, clammy with fear.

Graham cast a sharp glance at me, and that seemed to make up his mind. With a quick squeeze of my shoulder, he started up the stairs towards his brother.

I made to follow, and, turning, Graham held out a hand. "Isabelle, no."

"I've got to-" I gestured up at Merrill. The idea of waiting, of not being able to see if he was OK, sent my heart racing in a vortex of panic.

"Isabelle." Graham's voice was quiet. "Stay with them. They need you."

I glanced down at Morgan and Bo. Two pairs of eyes stared up at me, huge in their pale faces. I glanced at Merrill again.

"He'll be OK." Graham's voice was low, firm. "I promised your mother I'd look after you."

Slowly, I stepped back from the stairs. The clattering was growing louder, and before I could say anything else, Graham was gone, moving up the steps towards his brother.

I swallowed, closing my eyes. My other hand moved to Morgan's and his fingers gripped mine. Graham and Merrill's footsteps moved overhead.

My eyes were shut, keeping me willingly blind for a few moments, but my ears were on high alert. I listened, wincing at every clatter, every thud from the attic. I guessed the aliens weren't clearing the space out for us.

Graham's voice was soft, but somehow I could still hear. "It's too late."

Bo's and Morgan's hands tightened in mine.

Graham's tone grew lower, more gentle, as though reasoning with a frightened animal. "Let's go down."

My eyes opened. "Come down." I wet my lips nervously, struggling to get the words out. "Please, Merrill. Just come down." My voice trembled on his name and seemed to break slightly on the last word. I closed my eyes, willing myself to regain control.

A small hand crept onto my arm, and a low whisper brushed against my shoulder. "He'll be all right." I opened my eyes again to see Morgan leaning anxiously against me. "He'll be fine."

I stared at him, his eyes wide in conviction. Beside him, Bo nodded once, her little face white.

I took a deep breath and nodded. "OK." I swallowed hard. "Of course he'll be fine. Of course he will." My voice broke once again on the last word and Morgan's face crumpled for a moment. He patted my arm nervously, as though not knowing what else to do.

I pushed an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. My other arm slid around Bo, as I turned my attention back to the landing.

Merrill was standing still, his eyes darting around frantically, as though looking for something, anything. My teeth dug into my bottom lip, blood tasting in my mouth.

"Just leave it!" My voice was louder than I'd intended, and for a moment I flinched, ears straining for further noise from outside. But maybe it didn't make any difference. After all, Graham was right-they already knew we were here.

My eyes stayed fixed on Merrill, and I squeezed Morgan and Bo's hands tighter. Why couldn't he just leave it? Why couldn't he just come down?

Something-some voice in my mind, some buried instinct-murmured the answer. _Because he can't bear to just let them in._

Merrill moved out of my line of vision for a moment, and I stiffened. However, he was back a second later, dragging a chair with him. I narrowed my eyes, struggling to see. He dragged it into position, directly beneath the door in the ceiling.

Merrill stepped onto the seat, and stood up straight, his shirt lifting slightly as he did so. His hands pressed against the attic door, palms up, holding it shut. A human barricade.

I sucked in a gasp of air and realised I hadn't been able to breathe for the last few seconds. "Merrill-" My voice was high-pitched and some part of my brain dimly registered that I sounded kind of like a mouse, but any sarcastic remarks were quickly cut off by the clattering from overhead.

Merrill's voice was low, and, although I couldn't be sure, it sounded as though his teeth were gritted. "This is a very temporary solution."

I watched, frozen. Graham stood back, his eyes flashing back and forth, in much the same way as Merrill's had a few moments earlier. I knew he was casting around desperately for something, anything, to block the door.

My eyes were now fixed on Merrill. He was pushing against the door with all his might, and I focused on his arms, biting at my lip as I noticed the strain in his muscles, the way his hands pressed against the door. I couldn't see his face, but I guessed that his teeth were gritted.

Something was pushing against the door. Something was trying to get through and I was willing to bet my life it wasn't a squirrel. The room seemed to sway slightly.

There was a sound I couldn't quite make out, a sound from the attic, that made me close my eyes for a moment and pray to whoever was listening that Merrill could keep holding that door shut. My eyes opened, fixing on Merrill once again, my hand now clenched into a fist in Morgan's palm.

Merrill's voice was almost inaudible. "Graham-"

Graham slowly moved to his brother's side. His voice, once again, was low. "How temporary?"

Merrill seemed to be having difficulty speaking. "Twenty two seconds."

Oh great.

Graham stood back, glancing around frantically. Bo and Morgan watched, both squeezing my hand so hard I was fairly certain that they were cutting off my blood supply.

I closed my eyes. _Please, God, don't let anything happen to him...please, don't let something happen to him...please..._

Dimly, I realized I was praying to a God that up until a few minutes ago, I hadn't known I still believed in.

Morgan's hand squeezed mine harder. I opened my eyes, my gaze meeting his. "He'll be OK" he mouthed.

I couldn't speak. I just nodded once and turned back to the landing. But Morgan seemed to understand.

Graham's footsteps were quick as he moved out of my line of sight. I stared up, my eyes widening, as though somehow that would enable me to see what Graham was doing.

I found out a few moments later. A strange rattling filled the air. Morgan frowned, his head tipped back, clearly trying to work out what his father was doing. My own eyes narrowed, flicking sharply back to Merrill.

Graham grunted and then I saw the cabinet he was pushing. Huge, filled with ornaments-hence the rattling- it was being shoved across the floor by Graham, who was almost invisible behind it. For a moment, it looked as if the cabinet was moving itself. My lips twitched as I fought back the bizarre urge to laugh.

Then I looked back to Merrill and any thought of laughter disappeared. My teeth dug into my skin. _Just hang on.._

Perhaps Graham was thinking along the same lines as me, as the movement seemed to quicken a little, and the cabinet was pushed harder, rapidly progressing along the landing . I hesitated, barely breathing, as Graham moved it into position right under the attic door. He stepped back, panting, and looked up at Merrill.

Merrill, hesitating for a second, looked down at his brother uncertainly. Graham gave him a barely perceptible nod.

Slowly, Merrill lowered his hands to his sides. It was clear even from the bottom of the stairs that the cabinet did not reach the door. Merrill stepped down, gasping for breath, his feet hitting the floor a second before the attic door hit the top of the cabinet.

Morgan, Bo and I all jumped. I stepped back slightly, pulling them with me. I couldn't get a clear view from this distance, but my eyes focused on the square of black in the ceiling.

Slowly, the door lifted back up, the gap vanishing. My heart seemed to twist in my chest. Merrill had been less than two feet away from them...

Graham placed a hand on his brother's arm and both turned away. I stayed still, my heart in my mouth-I never grasped how literal that felt until then-as they descended the stairs.

The attic door slammed into the cabinet again, and I felt myself tremble, my fingers gripping Morgan and Bo's more tightly than ever. But Graham and Merrill were down now, and I stared at them, not knowing a thing to say, only knowing that I'd barely been able to breathe for the last two minutes. The attic door slammed into the cabinet again, and this time there came the sound of glass smashing. I swallowed, but my throat was painfully dry.

Merrill's eyes flickered straight to my face, and his hand landed on my arm.

"You OK?" His voice was hushed, his eyes on mine.

I gave him a quick nod, but Graham's hand on my shoulder ended that conversation. Glancing away, I noticed that he, Morgan and Bo were all standing still, very still, all of their eyes fixed on the front door. The bottom of the front door.

Slowly, I dropped my gaze, and then wished I hadn't.

Well, not literally, because then I would probably have died, but you know what I mean.

I was already stepping away, my hands on the kids' shoulders, even as my eyes dropped to the bottom of the door, and so I was moving by the time the choked-off scream built up in my throat, moving backwards down the hall, my hands on the kids' shoulders, Merrill's whisper of "Come on!" still hissing in my ears. But I still saw it, still saw the fingers curling under the door, digging into the wood, fingers no human hand would ever wear, and I still felt my insides contract with fear, the shock running through my body in a physical jolt.

But then we were moving faster, my hand finding Bo's arm, pulling her with me, Graham's fingers digging into Morgan's shoulder as he dragged him down the hallway. I moved on autopilot, my feet skidding along the floor, my eyes still pinned on the front door, on the fingers now reaching up, digging into the wood.

A vague glimpse of the kitchen doorway and then we were in the room, staggering slightly as I tried to catch my balance, Morgan placing a hand on my arm to steady me. I had a last confused glimpse of the hallway before Merrill slammed the door shut, the wood narrowly missing his fingers. I winced, Bo's hand now holding mine in a death grip.

_I still can't stop watching him. Even when the judge has finished sentencing him. Even when he is walking out of the court room. Even when his head is lowered, not daring to look at us._

_Graham's face is pale, his expression set. He nods once, his face firm, his suit almost painfully clean, fastened against his body. His teeth nibble at his lip and he ducks his head, hiding his face as we hear that Ray Reddy is to walk free._

_I stare at him. Really stare. Wait for him to look up at me. Need for him to look up at me._

_He doesn't._

Merrill hadn't stopped moving. He was already seizing a kitchen chair, wedging it under the door handle, his eyes fierce with terror. I watched, swallowing hard, glancing around the kitchen, which we now appeared to be barricading ourselves in. If we had to take refuge in here, at least we wouldn't starve.

Merrill kept going, reaching for another chair. I watched as he stacked this one upside down on top of the first, before returning for another. I moved forward, handing him a third chair, which he took with a muted nod of thanks.

Graham, to my surprise, was not moving. Instead, he was leaning against the wall, eyes seemingly calm, though if you looked for more than a second, there was a hint of suppressed terror. However, he remained still, quiet, his eyes watching Merrill's quick work, the thuds of the chairs being stacked against the wall echoing dully through the air. His demeanour could not have been more contrasting to that of his younger brother's-that of quick, frantic action, with no time to let himself think or feel.

Merrill stacked another chair against the door, pausing for a moment to lean forward, apparently catching his breath. "That's going to do nothing." He stepped back, eyes fixed on the door, before turning away, grabbing another seat.

Graham's voice was calm, low. Morgan and Bo shrank into the corner, their eyes on their father, wary, cautious. "We have to go into the basement."

My eyes flickered to the basement entrance-a flight of steps leading down into utter darkness. I blinked, giving an involuntary shudder.

Merrill placed the final chair on top of the pile, his eyes frantic, searching back and forth for some escape. "There's no way out of there, Graham." He let go of the chair leg, letting it fall slightly. I watched it as it sagged against the wood, as though aware of its' own futility.

Merrill turned away, now looking towards the back door, his eyes panicked, trapped. Watching him, I was reminded of the caged animals you see at a zoo, who stare at you through the bars, clearly willing to do anything to escape. I bit my lip, my teeth having now left indentations in my skin.

Graham didn't move or speak. He just stared at his brother, his eyes deliberately calm, as though trying to tame a furious dog. "Do you remember the day I dislocated your arm?" His voice was low, conversational. We might have been reminiscing over a cup of tea on a Sunday morning.

Merrill stood in the middle of the kitchen, his eyes flickering between the two doors, clearly calculating his chances. "Shall we make a run for it out the back?" He stared at the back door, and I raised an eyebrow. Given the cornfields were at the back, it didn't seem like an ideal port of call.

Graham apparently shared my opinion. "They're right behind the door." His voice was not condescending or patronizing. Instead, it was gentle, sad, coaxing Merrill to a realization he wished would not exist.

Merrill's fist punched the air in frustration as something moved at the back door, proving Graham's point correct. I moved towards him, but catching my eye, Graham gave me an almost imperceptible shake of the head.

The sounds outside the door were not receding. They were louder now, moving back and forth, and I felt a bubble of terror rise through my throat. Morgan and Bo took a step back as one, moving towards me, away from the back door, their eyes firmly on the barricades, as though picturing them loosening.

Graham's voice continued in the background, calm, quiet. He might have been telling a bedtime story. "You would have been.." He even frowned slightly, as though his biggest concern was the historical accuracy of family anecdotes, as though this was a perfectly ordinary day, or as ordinary as life ever got. Somehow, the surreality of the situation seemed to increase.

Graham's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Two and a half years old?"

Merrill was breathing hard now, and watching him, I was reminded of his sudden panic earlier, in the cupboard. He was pacing back and forth and I resisted the urge to move towards him. Instead, I focused my attention on Graham's story. I stared at Merrill, willing him to listen.

Merrill turned, facing his brother, his eyes wide, still fighting back fear. "What are you doing?" His voice was crumbled, struggling not to collapse in on its' own terror, and I realised this was what he was fighting so hard against-the fear of letting the others down, of not getting them out. Like he'd said earlier-not being able to look after them. Not being the protector.

And I knew this was the worst thing for him, the worst nightmare. There were intruders coming in, intruders inside, and he couldn't protect us from them. He couldn't do anything to stop them. He just had to wait.

And I knew-knew as sure as I knew that kindness was good- he'd do anything to avoid accepting that.

Graham's voice continued, low, almost melodic. "You tried to eat a second chocolate bar. Grandma said no." He watched his brother for a moment, his eyes softer now. "You tried to take a bite and I grabbed it."

Somehow, it wasn't surprising that Merrill didn't know when to admit defeat.

"I must have pulled your arm at an awkward angle." Graham's face was almost expressionless now. "Your elbow came right out of its' socket."

Morgan and Bo watched, wide-eyed, both staring at their uncle.

Merrill was moving slowly now, the frenzy in his eyes dying to be replaced by something far more frightening. Despair. A torturous, frantic despair. He moved to the chairs against the door, leaning against them, staring down, as though acknowledging just how fruitless they were.

Graham's voice continued, his eyes wider now, as though he was back there, living that moment with his brother. "And you didn't scream or anything." His eyes stayed on Merrill, keeping watch. "Your arm just kind of flopped to your side and you got real still."

There was a clatter from the hall. I froze, my eyes firmly on Merrill who stood as close to the door as it was possible to get, a few inches from the chairs. He stepped back, his eyes wide. "They're coming." His voice was torn, crumpled, and when he turned to face us, I saw the tears in his eyes, and knew he was coming to the same conclusion as the rest of us.

Graham stood very still, his eyes now fixed completely on Merrill, as though willing him with his voice. The sounds from the hall were growing. Clatters, bangs; it sounded like they were either ripping the house apart, searching or both. I froze, halfway between Graham and the kids. Morgan was staring at the back door, eyes wide, clearly expecting an alien to kick it down any second. Bo stood still, her eyes fixed on her father.

Graham's voice was low, his tone a continuous murmur. It was like white noise, comforting by osmosis. "Mom drove us to the hospital. I held you in my lap." He was watching all of us now, and for the first time his eyes held a flicker of pain. "You watched me crying." His voice was lower now, more insistent. "We need to go into the basement now."

His eyes landed on his two children. Morgan and Bo didn't argue or ask or question. Instead, they simply moved quietly forward, not needing to be told what to do, Morgan's hand on his sister's shoulder. There was a strange finality to it, a sense of farewell, and I felt an urge to call them back, as they descended the basement steps, their heads bobbing out of sight.

I turned to find Graham looking at me, his eyebrows raised in a silent question. Go or stay.

My eyes flickered to Merrill, and Graham followed my gaze. Our eyes met, and he gave me a barely perceptible nod.

I was staying.

_I kneel at Colleen's graveside, the dirt pushing into my knees. But there's nowhere else to come. _

_The sky hangs over us, overcast, dull. I skipped college today-the first of perhaps numerous skipped days-to come here. I didn't bring anything. I didn't bring anything when I visited Colleen in life, after all-why should things be different now that she's dead?_

_The word trembles in the air, though I haven't spoken it aloud._

_I stare at the gravestone. It stands still, mockingly disappointing, generic, meaning nothing. _

_How can a stone mark my sister? How can a stone mark where she's meant to be? _

_I close my eyes, my lips opening. I'm meant to speak to her, according to my therapist. Meant to tell her how I feel._

"_I miss you." My voice sounds bizarre in the open air, and I glance around, only to see that the graveyard is deserted. I close my eyes and open them again, my lips parting to continue._

"_I miss you." My voice is slightly louder this time, and I stare at the gravestone as though waiting for something to happen._

_Of course, nothing does._

_I stare at the stone. "And you can't hear me, can you?" My voice is getting louder. "You can't hear me. So there's no point in speaking to you. You can't hear. You're not listening." _

_Nothing._

"_There's no point." I'm almost shouting now. "There's no point speaking to you. There's no point in talking. You don't care. You can't hear." I'm barely aware of how loudly I'm shouting, only aware of the tearing pain in my throat, of the sudden sharp blow through my foot as I lash out at the gravestone, kicking it as hard as possible. I wince, sinking to my knees as the pain in my foot centres on the bone, making me wince._

"_You don't care." The words are gasped out now, as I screw my eyes shut, clutching my foot, which feels like it might fall off. "You don't know any of it."_

_I curl up into a ball, closing my eyes. Rain falls into my hair, as the clouds seem to open._

_I'm barely aware of the car door opening behind me, of the footsteps crossing towards where I sit on the ground. It is only when Graham kneels down beside me that I register that I'm not alone._

_"Come on." His voice is soft as he pulls me upright._

_We both stand still for a second, and Graham stares at his wife's grave. Just watches her, for a few moments. And for the life of me, I can't understand the look on his face. The only thing I can think of is that he looks exactly how I feel._

_I, too, stare at the grave. "Sorry" I whisper. "I'm sorry." _

_The words slide into the air, unheard._

_Slowly, Graham and I turn, and walk back to the car. The rain falls harder now, drops bouncing at our feet. There is nothing more to say._

Merrill stood with his back to us, his face invisible. But his shoulders were shaking slightly and I could hear his breathing, ragged and desperate, and I knew he could see the only solution. Slowly, I took a step towards him.

There were sounds against the door now, and a small part of my brain thanked God that Morgan and Bo were down in the basement. At least, if ait happened now, they'd have a chance, albeit a slim one.

Graham's voice continued behind me as I moved towards his younger brother. "You screamed when the doctors forced your arm back into place." I felt myself wince, not at the image, but at the thought of that scream, that sound, perhaps as intolerable to Merrill as his own pain now. And it clicked, somewhere in my mind, that Merrill found it far easier to give comfort to others, to let them lean on him, than he found taking it himself. Letting someone else be the protector.

I was standing behind Merrill now, waiting, my own heart pounding. I was painfully aware of the final seconds passing.

The sounds behind the door were moving faster now, and I fought the temptation to close my eyes, to shut them out. Instead, I stayed still, my eyes on Merrill, within arm's length of him.

Graham's voice was low now, and a hint of emotion ran through the words, a thread of jagged love, punctuating his story. "And you know what you did? You got off the table and you came over and you gave me a hug."

Merrill's cheek twitched slightly. His shoulders were trembling now, and I knew he was fighting back sobs. To him, this was bad enough, this nameless terror, this almost complete storm of horror. I could hear the gasps tearing at his chest.

"And you said, "Don't cry anymore, OK?"" Graham's voice was soft in the conclusion to his story. He paused for a moment, letting the silence become part of the anecdote. "You never got mad at me, Merrill." The words fell quietly, almost inaudible.

Merrill stood still, rigid, trembling, and I knew he was crying, and I knew this went against every image he had of himself as a protector, and that this was pure hell for him. I knew he didn't want Graham to see, and I knew he didn't want the kids to see and I knew he didn't want me to see.

I knew, and slowly, I slid my arms around him, my head falling onto his shoulder.

Merrill flinched, pulling away for a second, and my heart twisted in my chest, and then he moved back. He moved into me, letting my arms wrap around him from behind, my cheek brushing his. I saw his face then, and it was crumpled, wrenched, and most of all, tear-stained. I looked back at him, and one of my hands slid into his hair, holding him close to me, me keeping him safe, or as safe as I could.

Merrill's breathing shuddered, and he dropped his gaze from my face. But he didn't pull away and the sounds from the door increased, as we stood, with my head buried in his shirt, my arms around him, holding him together.

Slowly, Merrill turned around. His eyes focused on my face, and he lifted his hand to my cheek, tucking that same strand of hair behind my ears. I smiled, noticing that my own cheeks were wet with silent tears.

Merrill gave me a small nod and, his arm now sliding around me, we moved very slowly towards the basement stairs.

The sounds at the door continued as we reached the top, the top of the stairs, and I knew this was it. After this, there was no turning back. Like Merrill said, there was no way out.

No way back.

Merrill stood still, my arm still around him, our bodies touching. "We won't be able to get out of there." His eyes flickered to mine, and slowly, softly, I nodded. "We won't." My own voice was the same volume as his; a whisper of resignation, a sound of acceptance.

Graham, standing beside us, leaned in towards his brother. "I'm sorry I hurt your arm." His voice was barely audible.

Merrill's reply, when it came, was quiet, quick, so that if you turned away, you could pretend he hadn't said the words at all. "I know."

A second hung in the air, during which Graham watched us, his eyes inscrutable, and then we moved. Our footsteps echoed as we moved down the steps, the cloth of Merrill's shirt still stroking the skin of my cheek, as we walked down into the basement.

Our footsteps thudded down the stairs, until we reached the bottom. My arms were still around Merrill's shoulders. The basement was dully illuminated, light shining from one bare bulb that hung from the ceiling. Morgan and Bo stood still, barely a few feet from the doorway, their eyes wide.

Merrill pulled back from me slightly, so that we were standing a few inches apart. The clatters from overhead were louder now, and I cast an anxious glance towards the stairs.

Merrill's hand caught my chin, gently persuading me to look at him. "Isabelle..."

I stared up at him, my hand rising to his cheek. "What?"

Merrill bent his head to my ear and whispered three words, and my heart jumped in my chest.

I slid my arms around his neck, pulling him in for a final hug, and my mouth found his ear. My lips moved, whispering the same words back to him.

Merrill pulled back quickly, and his eyes found mine. The sounds from overhead were louder, closer and I fought the urge to scream Graham's name, to race back up the stairs, grab him, pull him down to us, protect him the way he'd always protected me.

"Isabelle.." Merrill's voice was desperate and a million things were said in that one word. Slowly, he leaned in and brushed his lips across my cheek. I closed my eyes, painfully aware that this was it. This would be our last time.

There was a good chance we weren't going to make it through the next hour.

Merrill leaned back, brushed my hair off my face and then, turning quickly, headed for the back of the basement. "Going to wedge something against the door.." Reaching the shelves, he stood back, eyes scanning the area frantically.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and I turned quickly, my heart thudding in my chest, not knowing what I expected to see. Please let it be Graham.  
>I waited, my heart pounding, acutely aware of Morgan and Bo standing rigid beside me. Both of their eyes were fixed on the door.<p>

We waited.

My shoulders slumped in relief as Graham's silhouette appeared on the stairs. Unless the aliens had suddenly developed the ability to morph, of course, in which case we were in real trouble.

Graham's eyes were focused, determined as he marched into the basement. We were all now under the house. From overhead, there came a crashing sound, and I froze. It sounded as if the aliens' attempts at breaking down the door were starting to pay off.

Graham turned, gripped the doorknob with one hand, and flung it back.

The basement door slammed shut with a resounding finality.

**Hope you enjoyed that! I'll post the next chapter soon-not sure when, though, as I have a ton of revision to do, too! But I promise you I will get it up within a few weeks-I seem to be updating this fic at a rate of one chapter per month at the moment! But it is going to be finished, don't worry!**


	11. A Message for You All

**Hi everyone! Ok, here's the problem; my computer's on the blink and I need a friend to fix it! I have written the next chapter and I know this is bad timing, but this fic will be finished. However, I won't be online or posting for the next few weeks until this is fixed! But I promise, it will be fixed and then I will post the new chapter! Thank you to everyone who's been reviewing, favouriting, alerting, etc.-it makes my day to see all of them. Please bear with me and I promise Chapter 11 will be up in a few weeks-it is already written! Remember, this fic will be finished!**

**Thank you, and in case you don't hear from me before then, happy Christmas to you all!**

**hallowgirlfrommarsx**


	12. Nightmare (Real Chapter 11)

**Hi everyone! Earlier this evening, I updated this fic saying that I didn't know when I'd next update this due to technical issues! Well, this got fixed very quickly-I don't know if it's fixed permanently but it was long enough for me to update this! So here's Chapter 12, really Chapter 11! Only two more chapters to go after this! I love writing this fanfic, it's been really fun, I even make up little soundtracks for it! I know, I'm crazy, but this is the first fanfic I ever wrote so it's kind of important to me! And it's definitely being finished, I promise!**

**I don't know when the next chapter will be up-within about a month or so! Sorry this one took such a long while, but as well as technical problems, I've been revising for mock exams. Still, those finish this week, so I'll have more time after that! I'll stop rambling now!**

**Hope you enjoy!**

"_Colleen, what would we do if something bad happened?"_

_My sister stares at me, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean?" Her hands continue shifting through the box of possessions she's packing, but her eyes remain on me.  
>"Well...you know...like...I don't know, a fire."<em>

_Colleen shrugs. "Get out of the house."_

_My teeth chew at my lip. "But what if we couldn't? What if we were trapped?"_

"_The fire brigade would come and help us." Colleen seems satisfied with this answer, this matter-of-fact response. She takes it for granted that someone will always come to help us, no matter what. No matter what._

_I frown, confused._

"_But what-" _

_Colleen sighs, and glances up at me once again. "But what, Isabelle?" Her tone is uncharacteristically brusque and I flinch slightly, meeting her eyes for a second, only to look away almost immediately._

_I drop my gaze. "Nothing." My voice is low, and I turn away._

_Colleen sighs, the familiar stress of the last few days creeping back into her voice. "Well, then, let me get on with this." Noticing the look on my face, her tone softens. "I'll come and read to you later, OK?"_

_I shrug. "I guess." I keep my gaze lowered, continue tracing a complicated pattern on the floor with my foot._

_Colleen buries her head back in the box and I watch her for a few moments. I watch her and I think about the answer to my question, and the one I never got to ask._

_What about if the fire brigade can't help? I mean, it's unlikely, but that could happen, right? What happens if the police can't help? What would happen if nobody could help? If everyone in the world were in exactly the same situation and there was nothing anyone could do to change things?_

_What would happen then?_

Bo's hand crept into mine, slick with sweat. I squeezed reassuringly, swallowing back the terror rising in my own throat. Morgan stood in front of us, his eyes on the door, wide as he watched his father.

"We forgot our foil helmets." His voice was soft, and his eyes blinked nervously. Behind us, Merrill's movements at the shelves were audible. Graham leaned against the door, his eyes fierce in the dim light of the basement.

"Have you got anything to wedge against the door knob?" His voice was low, addressing his younger brother. The lack of reply from Merrill made me swallow and clutch Bo's hand tighter.

I waited, my ears straining to hear any sound from the other side of the door. But the silence hung still, the tension stretched palpably through the air.

Morgan's voice was louder this time. "They'll read our minds." He turned to stare at me, his face pale, and I motioned for him to come nearer. Morgan shook his head, a silent declination.

Graham turned to his son, sweat forming at his hairline. "You're scaring your sister." His voice was strained, low, and came perilously close to cracking under the weight of remaining calm.

"I'm already scared." Bo's voice was quiet, almost inaudible, and she leaned further into me. I pulled her closer, holding her in the shadow of my body, protecting her in the only way possible. Behind me, Merrill kept moving, the urgency of his footsteps increasing with each second that passed. I swallowed, struggling to hold on to something, anything, to keep myself calm, resisting the tide of hysteria rising in my brain.

Morgan stood very still, staring straight ahead. "They'll know our secret thoughts." I stared at him. Although he had spoken aloud, something stirred in my chest, and I had the strange feeling that he could just as easily have been talking to himself.

The noises were coming closer now, the strange inhuman clicking-there was no better way to describe it-echoing starkly through the air. Bo's fingers tightened on mine and I swallowed hard. My voice was a low whisper. "It's all right...it's going to be all right...it's all right..."

Bo didn't speak but nodded.

Graham, Morgan, Bo and I stood still, time seeming to freeze around us. All four of our pairs of eyes remained fixed on the door. Merrill's footsteps at the back of the basement were somehow comforting-they reminded me we were alive, reminded me that there was more than just waiting, this cold, suffocating terror.

The door handle moved.

I froze, gripping Bo's hand as tightly as possible. My eyes flashed from side to side, scouting out hiding places in case we had to make a run for it. Which I guess was pretty pointless since we already knew there was nowhere to run. Some solid fear seemed to rise in my throat as Graham's hand grasped the doorknob. His knuckles tensed, the skin whitening over the bones, as his grip tightened around the struggling handle.

I froze, my throat suddenly painful to swallow. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the doorknob. My fingers slipped in Bo's, damp with sweat. I was suddenly aware that my entire body was shaking-a constant, quiet shaking, my teeth audibly chattering. Somewhere in me, I felt like I was about to wet myself and/or vomit. Or pass out, which could be a blessing in disguise.

The door handle shook harder, and Graham leaned against the door. I couldn't see much from this distance but my eyes caught his in the dim light of the bare bulb. His eyes were wild, a barely contained terror filling his face, his lips parting among ashen skin.

"I'm not ready." The words slipped out, caught in the air. My eyes prickled with fear, the air of the basement seeming to press in on me. I imagined a possible suffocation through terror.

The door began to shake. They were on the other side. They had hold of the handle. There was nothing we could do. There was nothing we could do...

Graham was trembling now, pressed against the door, the handle almost slipping from his grasp. His lips set, and he swung round abruptly, his face suddenly fully visible. "Merrill!"

There was a quick half-second of silence, during which I turned towards the back of the basement, Bo's fingers somehow sliding away from mine, before Merrill's voice rang, triumphant, through the air. "Got it!"

I had one brief glimpse, one flash of Merrill pulling something down from a shelf before he yanked at the object hard, something shattered and the lights went out. The basement was plunged into blackness.

Bo's voice rent through the air. "Dad!"

I turned through the darkness, my heart suddenly slamming against my ribs. My stomach twisted and my head seemed to spin slightly, the blackness suddenly seeming strangely off-kilter. Bo. Morgan.

"Bo!" My voice was small, and barely carried through the air before something rushed past me, knocking me out of the way. The contact lasted barely a second, and I guessed it was headed for the basement door, though without a visual aid, my sense of direction was almost totally obliterated. I spun, with no idea which way I was facing, painfully aware that in this darkness I was almost completely helpless.

"Bo!" My voice was louder this time, my eyes searching the blackness helplessly, even though I knew it would yield nothing. "Bo! Morgan!"

My lungs seemed to tighten and I took a breath, the air suddenly constricted with fear.

It took me a moment to see the light that suddenly flickered into being. My eyes moved, already unaccustomed to sight, and took a moment to settle. After a moment, objects fell back into focus and I spotted Morgan, holding a torch. The light shone under his chin, giving him a strange, almost ghostly appearance.

The light landed directly in my eyes and I squinted, raising an arm to block my view for a moment. Morgan lowered the flashlight, apparently taking the hint. He was standing beside a shelf, which in the middle of the darkness, he had apparently had the presence of mind to search.

My heart was still pounding as I slowly turned, the flashlight illuminating the area behind me.

Graham and Merrill were leaning against the basement door, a large hammer wedged under the handle. Both were pushing against the wood, their faces strained. Thumps and thuds came from the other side-evidently, the aliens were not giving up. Just our luck to get the determined ones.

Morgan stood still, the light wavering slightly as he focused the beam on his father and uncle. Graham too, shielded his eyes as he turned to face his son.

"Where's Bo?"

I froze, liquid horror curling in my stomach. "Bo?" My voice was small, but Morgan hissed with shock, his finger rising to his mouth. "We've got to look _quietly"_ he said severely. "Or they'll know she's on her own." He gestured at the door. I was guessing he meant the aliens, but this wasn't the time to be funny.

"Bo?" This time, my voice was a whisper. Morgan moved slowly backwards, his flashlight scanning the area, illuminating the many objects the Hess's kept in their basement-I hadn't realised just how much stuff was down here.

"Bo?" My eyes flickered back and forth, searching for any sign of movement. Where was she? My heart seemed to clench for a moment, my lungs tightening once again. "Bo!" I waited, heart suddenly pounding into my throat.

And then, mercifully, an answering call- "I'm OK."

I breathed out, almost collapsing with relief. Morgan, standing still, with the flashlight trained on a small figure standing in the shadows of the crates, appeared to be doing something similar, his eyes wide with relief. Bo gave us a small wave from the shadows, apparently seeing no reason to leave her hiding spot.

"She's over there" I called to Graham, gesturing to his daughter. He nodded, his eyes drifting back to the door. I watched, curious.

Slowly, very slowly, Graham took a cautious step back into the basement. The hammer remained, wedged under the handle. By his side, Merrill stared curiously at him for a moment, then followed suit. Slowly, he walked back to the shelves in the furthest reaches of the basement. I watched him, heart audible in my chest. My breath came as a strained gasp.

Reaching the shelves, Merrill reached up to something, pulling at it-as the beam of the flashlight fell on the object, I realised it was an old radio. Merrill twiddled the knob experimentally. I waited, heart thudding, praying for the sound of a human voice. It would at least be a reminder that there was someone out there, someone, somewhere carrying on.

Unless no-one was carrying on..

Merrill twisted the knob round. He did it again. And again.

Nothing.

The silence was somehow more ominous than the battering of the door had been.

Merrill's voice was barely a whisper. "What could be happening out there?"

His words echoed in my ears as harshly as a shriek, despite their low volume. Graham's reply hung low in his throat. "I can't even imagine."

"Hope they're doing better than we are." Morgan's voice was soft, and tremulous, a tone of suppressed terror. "We don't even have helmets."

Another bang at the door. Another thud. All of us stood back, watching apprehensively. My heart danced a rapid beat in my chest. My eyes flickered to Bo, wanting to keep her in sight.

This could be it...this could be it...

_Lying in the grass, I stare up at the clouds, and wonder where I'd be on the day I died._

_It's a game I play-an ideal destination kind of thing. I mean, everyone thinks about this kind of stuff. What would you do if you knew you were going to die-what would be the easiest way to die-it's not that weird. Not that weird for me, anyway._

_Only problem is, I can never come up with an answer. I mean, I can think of a few options, but never one final selection._

_Maybe I just don't have an ideal death in mind. Maybe it just feels kind of bizarre._

_Partly, it's the fact that every time I try, thoughts creep into my head about tempting fate._

_Lying back in the grass, I shrug it off. It's not like I'll know when it's going to happen, anyway. Nobody knows. All we can do is wait._

_Probably won't happen anytime soon, anyway._

One bang. Two bangs. Thuds against the door.

I don't know which of us understood first. But the thought crept into my head, a gradual seed of realization, until Graham's voice broke through the darkness, speaking the very words I'd been thinking.

"They're just making noises." He glanced around at the rest of us, bemusement clouding his gaze. "They're not trying to get in." His eyes flickered, a nervousness creeping into his stance. "Why would they do that?"

Merrill spoke before I could. "They want our attention on the door?"

Another thud. The door visibly quivered. I winced, my hand gripping Morgan's shoulder.

Graham's voice was a low, fierce whisper. "They're distracting us."

"From what?" Merrill turned to me, his eyes frantic. I wished I could have told him it was no good looking at me-I wasn't the alien expert here.

"The book says they're very good problem-solvers." Apparently, it didn't matter that Morgan had forgotten his book. He seemed to have memorized every page of it anyway. He turned to me, his eyes suddenly earnest. "They'll find a way in." A quiver of terror entered his voice.

Another bang dragged Graham's eyes to the door. He stared at it for a moment-then, seeming to come to a split decision, "Morgan, give me your flashlight."

I stared as Morgan bent down and rolled it across the floor. I guess throwing it would have been too obvious. I glanced up at the ceiling, swallowing hard. I wondered how far below the house the basement was. I wondered how much distance there was between us and the aliens.

Slowly, I moved towards the shelves where Bo stood.

Graham, holding the flashlight aloft, had apparently been coming to an unwelcome conclusion. "They used to pour coal down in this basement." His eyes, illuminated in the glow of the flashlight, shone with sudden fear. "There's a coal chute in here."

My eyes caught Merrill's in the light, and-despite the obvious seriousness of the situation-my heart still seemed to jump slightly, as I remembered that swift kiss when we'd first entered the basement. Still, given the current circumstances, that jump of the heart could have been a skip of terror.

Merrill's eyes flickered to his brother and for a long moment the two of them watched each other, apparently coming to an unspoken decision. Then slowly, they each turned towards opposite walls. Morgan silently handed his uncle a flashlight.

The seconds passed, tense and silent, as Graham and Merrill inched their way around the walls, flashlights aloft, as they searched for a telltale draft of air that would give away the position of a coal chute. The thuds on the door continued, a constant background beat. I swallowed, focusing on keeping as quiet as possible, not daring to open my mouth in case a sound of terror escaped. I concentrated on staying still, not moving a muscle. I knew it was stupid, but I could imagine the aliens motionless on the other side of the door, using their extra-advanced senses to somehow _feel _their way towards us, using our emotions as a guide. Maybe they could feel our fear. And if I stayed as still as possible, maybe they wouldn't sense the waves of terror that I was sure were washing off me.

Morgan slowly stepped away, his back touching the wall, his eyes remaining on his uncle and father as he watched. I followed him, wanting to keep him in my line of sight, and making sure to catch a glimpse of Bo as I did so. She stood still, in the shadows of the piles of objects, her eyes just visible in the darkness as the puddles of flashlight glare undulated around the basement walls. I beckoned to her, wanting her closer, but she shook her head. I stared at her, and she slowly shrugged, in apparent answer to my unspoken question.

I leaned against the wall, feeling the chill through my T-shirt. I shivered, my hand finding Morgan's shoulder. It was freezing down here; I had no idea how we were going to get through the night. I only hoped there were some blankets lurking among the assortment of objects down here.

"I can feel air." Graham's voice was low, and I jumped-he was closer than I expected. I stiffened, my eyes casting about, every hair on my arms standing to attention for the sensation of a draft.

"Me too!" Merrill's voice too, was close and thinking about it, I realised that I too could feel something; some rush of air against my skin, especially when I moved. I turned my head, but couldn't figure out where it was coming from. Morgan stared up at me, his eyes wide. "Can you feel that?" I asked, my voice a whisper, and slowly he nodded.

"It's getting stronger." Graham's voice was nearer this time and a shiver crawled up my spine at the idea of the chute being close to me, somewhere I couldn't see. I envisaged an alien claw sinking into the back of my neck, it's digits stained with blood. I shuddered, my nails, what little there was of them, digging into my palms.

"I can feel something" I called out, my voice sounding smaller than ever in the confined space of the basement. My eyes cast around the objects, which, unfamiliar in the dark, seemed to take on a sinister air. I took in a breath, my back pressed into the wall, and despite the surprising amount of room, a sudden wave of claustrophobia washed over me.

"We're close." Merrill's voice was somewhere in front of me and I caught sight of him now, a tall figure in the half-light. The beams danced above our heads, Graham and Merrill's eyes casting back and forth as they moved in front of Morgan and I.

Graham and Merrill were about six feet away from us and as they moved slowly together, their flashlights lowering, I frowned. Where was the coal chute? Behind our heads?

I blinked as the light flickered into my eyes. "Hold it." I raised my arm, shielding myself from the flashlight, which lowered apologetically as I squinted. My eyes watering, I managed to make out the figures of Graham and Merrill both standing still. Their flashlights were pointing at Morgan and I.

Nobody moved. Graham and Merrill both seemed to freeze. They did not move their flashlights. Their eyes were wide.

The seconds crept past.

A shiver curled up my spine.

Morgan's voice was very small beside me. "What?"

For a second, nothing happened.

And then it moved.

I felt the movement a second before it registered-the dry, reptilian feel of it brushing my shirt, a gust of air against my neck. My mouth opened in a silent scream a second before the fingers fastened onto my shoulder, digging painfully through the cloth into the skin.

My yell was drowned out by Morgan's cry as he grabbed at my arm, yanking hard, in an attempt to pull me away from the creature, the thing that had hold of me. There was a sharp clatter as Graham and Merrill's flashlights fell to the floor, the beams of light zig-zagging crazily onto the ceiling, illuminating the shelves around us.

I didn't even hear the footsteps before the two of them were at my side, yanking my arm hard. Morgan pulled, his face straining, his eyes wide, as the hand moved, clawed fingers brushing my neck, fastening for a moment over my windpipe. I choked, my eyes watering painfully.

Merrill's arms fastened around my waist and he yanked me forward. I stumbled away from the wall, the alien's grip loosening slightly, before another tug from both Merrill and Graham, pulled me free of the hand entirely.

"You OK?!" Merrill's arms were already around my shoulders, as I staggered upright, hand massaging my throat. I shuddered, the sensation of the creature's hand still clinging to my skin.

"Yeah-" I trailed off, mid-reply. I stood still, staring at Morgan, horror-struck. From where I stood, I had a clear view of the coal chute that Morgan and I had been unwittingly standing in front of. Morgan had moved from his previous position, and was now slightly to the left of the hole, his eyes fixed on me, stunned, frightened. Graham was leaning against the wall, panting for breath, apparently recovering himself.

And the alien hand was still dangling through the hole.

For a crazy moment, I entertained the possibility that we'd somehow severed the creature's appendage and that was the reason it dangled so lifelessly. However, that hopeful thought was dashed a second later when slowly, ever so slowly, the hand stirred and then softly moved, stretching through the hole. I watched, stunned into silence, as it crept-even though it was only the creature's hand, I couldn't get rid of that impression, that it _crept_, sneaky, almost serpentine-across the wall.

I realised what was going to happen a second before it did.

"Morgan!" My shriek was cut off by Morgan's hoarse yell as the creature's hand closed around his throat.

Merrill dived forward, and stumbling, I followed him. Graham was already there, arms around his son's shoulders, dragging him away, his mouth open in a yell I couldn't hear over the roaring of blood in my ears. My fingers fastened onto Morgan's sleeve, pulling at him frantically. Merrill's hands gripped his shoulders, and my foot kicked something-a flashlight-on the floor. It spun across the room, it's beam tilting crazily on the ceiling. I cried out as I pulled Morgan as hard as I possibly could. My eyes found his for a moment in the flashlight, and the look of terror I found there seemed to strike me a physical blow.

Graham's fingers seized hold of the hand, dragging its' digits back. "Have you got him?" His voice echoed off the basement walls, as he looked at Merrill, as though a thousand Grahams were bellowing the words.

Merrill nodded. "Pull him!" His voice resounded crazily in my brain as I nodded, and summoning all my strength, pulled Morgan as hard as I could. At the same moment, Graham slid his fingers under the alien's, wrenching them back painfully.

One pull, then another, and suddenly Morgan was loose in our arms. Merrill and I yanked once again and then the hand was gone, loose from Morgan's throat, and his small body collapsed limply into our hands. He slid against me and I lowered him to the floor, my eyes searching anxiously for Graham, my body already tensing in preparation to battle the alien once again on his behalf.

Merrill barely stopped moving. With one pat to Morgan's head, he leapt upright, his eyes casting about frantically, for some object he had yet to find. His eyes lit up suddenly, and following his gaze, I caught sight of the heap of sandbags lying in the corner of the basement-perfect for a barricade.

Graham fell to his knees on the floor beside me, arms wrapping around his son and I stumbled upright, sliding back to the floor in my haste to help, my knee striking the ground with a surprising amount of force. I winced as I dragged myself back upright, the sensation of the cloth of my jeans sticking to my knees telling me that the fall had produced blood.

I ignored it, staggering forward to the pile of bags, my arms slipping under one, lifting it into the air. I took a step backwards, stumbling under its' surprising weight, only for Merrill to snatch it from me, thrusting it against the coal chute door. Beneath it, I spied an already formed pile of bags, blocking the only other entrance-and exit-to the basement. I barely had time to admire Merrill's quick handiwork before launching back to the pile for another bag.

It took less than a minute, but it seemed like an eternity-snatching each bag from the pile, marvelling at the weight of it, before handing it to Merrill, who would thrust it on top of the heap, before turning back for another. I watched, each slam of a bag a further addition to the barricade, and somehow more reassuring each time.

Finally, it was covered. Bags piled in front of the hole, all gaps hidden, the one entrance into the basement apart from the door blocked off. I reflected that at least now if aliens did get in, we knew there was one way out-even if we'd just barricaded it with sandbags.

Merrill sank down in front of the pile, gasping for breath. His head tipped back, and his eyes found mine. I stared back at him. "Are you OK?"

Merrill held up a hand, panting for breath. A light suddenly shone into my eyes, and I squinted, once again raising my arm. The flashlight lowered and looking up, I spotted Bo, standing still, her eyes wide. In her hand, she clutched Graham's flashlight, training it on Merrill and I.

Merrill twisted round, staring up at the pile of sandbags behind him. Reaching out, he picked up a small can and shoved it on top of the pile. I was sure the extra six ounces of protection would serve us well.

Merrill turned back to me and, with a quick nod, picked up the flashlight. Still gasping for breath, he shifted slightly, turning the beam around to focus on Morgan and Graham. I frowned, listening to the gasps that came from their corner.

The beam fell onto the two figures and I clutched Merrill's arm involuntarily, staring, horror-struck, at the scene illuminated in the bare light.

Morgan lay in Graham's arms. His head lolled on his father's chest, his eyes wide, fixed in an expression of frozen terror. His skin was livid white, stretched over his cheekbones. His fists clutched the material of his father's jeans, the bones prominent under his skin. He gasped for breath, his chest rising and falling at an abnormally rapid rate. Graham clutched him, his hands tight on his son's body.

An asthma attack.

Merrill stared, his eyes wide. Bo stood very still, her flashlight trained on her brother. Her face was inscrutable.

Slowly, Graham turned his head to face us, and my stomach contracted at the look in his eyes. This was much worse than the frantic terror I'd witnessed earlier. Anything was better. Anything was better than the slow, drowning horror that stared out at me now.

"We don't have his medicine." Graham's voice was low, forced, a horrified acceptance of the truth, and far, far worse than if he'd screamed his son's name.

Merrill's head shook slightly next to me, his mouth set, a refusal to accept what was right in front of him. But I saw the realisation. I saw the realisation in his eyes and my heart began to twist into two.

Graham pulled his son close to him, Morgan's head lying back against his chest. "Don't be afraid, Morgan." His voice was low, a fierce whisper. "We'll slow this down together." He held his son close, my teeth sinking into my lip as I watched.

"Feel my chest." Graham's voice was choked, determined, desperate, his arms clutching his son tighter than I'd have thought possible. "Feel it moving in and out." He took a breath, ducking his head slightly. "Breathe like me. Breathe like me. Come on." His voice cracked slightly and a small sound rose from my own throat. Beside me, Merrill stared straight ahead, his eyes wide, burning in the darkness, his skin pale in the reflected glow of the torchlight.

Bo's voice was quiet, a small river of sound. Her flashlight wavered, but did not drop. "I dreamed this."

The air suddenly seemed tighter, harder to breathe. I inhaled, struggling to take in as much oxygen as possible, feeling my own chest tighten, as though in sympathy with Morgan.

"Stay with me." Graham's voice was little more than a whisper and my eyes watched his through the darkness, and what I found startled me. He was not looking at Morgan or at us. He didn't seem to be looking at anything. Instead, he was simply staring straight ahead, as though he was seeing something else-something the rest of us couldn't see.

"I know it hurts." His voice was cramped, forced, as though dragging itself from his throat. "Be strong, baby. It'll pass." He closed his eyes for a moment, his mouth working furiously once again. "It'll pass" he murmured again, as though to reassure his son. But I looked at his eyes and the way he clutched Morgan to him, and the desperate lock of his arms, and I knew it was himself he was reassuring.

Bo moved towards us, her eyes frightened. Cautiously, as though we might push her away, she sat down, only for me to reach out, my arms finding her shoulders and pull her towards me, her head leaning against my knees. She shook as I held her, her eyes fixed on her brother and father. Merrill's arm slid around her shoulders, holding her between us.

I stared at Morgan, unable to look away. His eyes were wide, fixed, his chest rising and falling frantically. His fists clenched and unclenched on his father's jeans. His lips pursed, searching desperately for breath.

I closed my eyes for a moment. _Please, God, please. Please. Let him be OK. Don't take him away from us. Please don't take him. Please. He's just a little boy. He's only a little boy._

My teeth clenched together, my eyes squeezed shut, as tight as possible, but still I could not shut out the darkness of the basement, the ragged harshness of Morgan's breaths, the terrible sense of despair seeping into my skin.

_Please, God. Please...please..._I didn't realise my cheeks were wet with tears until one dripped onto the sleeve of my shirt. I took a deep, shuddering breath, and felt Merrill's arm tighten around me.

_There is nothing to say._

_Graham sits in our lounge. His face is ashen. He stares straight ahead. He does not speak. He does not move. Morgan and Bo lie curled up on the couch beside him, their cheeks still damp with tears, their eyes mercifully closed, their crying having finally exhausted them into sleep._

_I lean against the wall. The clock ticks, as though nothing has happened, as though my sister is just a few miles away at the farm, as though she hasn't left, as though she's still here, one car ride away._

_I stand still. Lean against the wall. I don't speak. I don't move. I barely breathe. One move, and the world and its' reality will come tumbling down. If I stand still and close my eyes and keep quiet, I can hold it off longer._

_Just a little longer._

"Don't do this to me again."

My heart seemed to stop. For the first time tonight, Graham was pleading.

My eyes slowly faltered open, their lashes still stuck together with tears. Graham's eyes were wide, determined, almost crazed in their desperation. He was holding Morgan to him in a death grip.

"Not again." His voice was a whisper, and I watched. I couldn't look away. I couldn't say anything. I couldn't do anything.

I just had to watch.

Graham's lips moved in a faint whisper, a coil of words that snaked through the basement, unfurling as they were spoken. "_I hate you."_

Something wrenched in my chest; something cold and hot at the same time, something hard...something-and nausea rose in my throat.

Graham's voice was ragged. "I _hate _you." He closed his eyes, the tears suddenly spilling out, near his son's head, like a bizarre parody of baptism.

I sat very still, not looking away from Graham and Morgan. My eyes were rooted, my mind held still by what I saw. Father and son knelt together on the floor, each holding the other, each keeping the other here, with him, with us.

Bo was staring at her father, her mouth puckered. Silent tears were streaming down her face, and my arm slid around her shoulders. I glanced at Merrill, wincing as his arm tightened around me. His eyes were closed, and his shoulders shook silently. My other arm wrapped around him, bringing Merrill, Bo and I into a strange little circle. I stared at Graham and Morgan and waited.

And prayed.

I prayed harder than I've ever prayed in my life.

Graham's eyes opened. He held his son tighter than ever, and he whispered, and spoke and comforted. And that conviction-that determination-that used to imbue his speeches at church, that belief, that absolute belief-it would be a lie to say it was back. That it was fully back, where it belonged, as though it had never been away.

But there was a shade of it in his speech. And a shade was better than nothing at all.

"_I'm going to Graham's this weekend." I glance at my mother, waiting for her reaction._

_"Hmm-hmm." My mother barely looks at me, busying herself at the sink._

"_I'll be staying the whole weekend." My voice quavers in the air and for one very long moment, my mother is still._

"_The whole weekend?" She continues moving, her hands travelling to the taps, though there is a quiver that there wasn't before. "You haven't done that in a while."_

_My sister's name trembles in the air but no-one speaks it aloud._

"_I know." I stare at the tabletop, trace an imaginary pattern in the wood with my finger. "Just wanted to tell you."_

_My mother nods. "Fine." I wait. And wait. And wait._

_Nothing more._

_Nobody mentions my little announcement, but for the rest of the afternoon, the atmosphere is stretched tight, and I get the feeling that one tug could snap the entire thing around us._

_Washing up that night, I can't stop my eyes roving to my mother's face. The lines in her skin are more prominent, her eyes are more glazed, her mouth is narrower. _

_The question boils in my throat and batters against my closed mouth. Slamming a dish into the rack with unnecessary force, I draw a reproving glance from my mother._

_I turn to her, the words fighting their way out. "Do you think Graham will ever go back to being a reverend?"_

_The words hover in the air, the wonder childish. But I don't take them back. I wait, and watch my mother._

_She stands still. Her mouth moves silently. This is the closest we've come to discussing my sister in months._

_She doesn't answer. She doesn't answer._

_Instead, she simply presses her lips together and turns back to the dishes, her shoulders hunching, as though hiding from the whisper of memory._

_I shove a last dish into the rack, turning away. If she's not going to talk, there's no point staying._

_I'm halfway across the room before I hear my own name. "Isabelle?"_

_Slowly, I turn back._

_My mother watches me, for a moment, and there's a look caught in her eyes, an expression I can't define. Our gazes lock. also for a moment, and I wait, the two of us caught together._

_Slowly, she shakes her head. "It doesn't matter." She turns back to the dishes. _

_I wait but she just turns back to the dishes._

_As I walk away, I wonder if disappointment has a sound._

"The fear is feeding him." Graham looked down, now, looked into his son's face, before glancing away. His eyes closed again, as though the sight of his son's pain was too much, too much for him to bear with nothing he could do to take it away.

His voice continued, desperate whispers into the darkness, clinging fiercely to the words, refusing to let go, clutching them as a final weapon. "Don't be afraid of what's happening. _Believe _it's going to pass. _Believe it."_

I closed my eyes. Believe it. Believe it. The hardest thing for someone who likes to know what's going to happen next. Believing in something with no proof at all.

The hardest thing, but all we had.

Believe it. Believe it.

"Just wait." Graham's voice tore in his throat, a harsh whisper. Morgan's breathing grasped at the air, sucking in anything, as though sensing its' own time limit. A small sound broke from my throat. I closed my eyes, jammed a fist to my mouth, slamming back the sobs that wanted to break through.

"Don't be afraid. The air is coming." Graham's voice broke but he kept going, kept speaking, even as the tears filled his eyes, even as his words crumbled in his throat. "Believe. We don't have to be afraid. It's about to pass." His words were a string of sound now, and his hands clutched his son as though waiting for him to be snatched away. Morgan's face strained for air, his eyes bulging, the terror clear even from this distance.

Merrill was mouthing silently, his lips moving too rapidly for me to read. His arm was tight around my shoulders, and his eyes were fixed on his nephew, making no effort to hide the tears, the breath gasping at his throat. Bo stared at her father, her eyes wide, nodding slightly, as though convincing herself, making herself believe along with his words.

"Here it comes." Graham's voice was choked by this time and he made no effort to hide the tears filling his eyes, as he hugged his son to his chest. "Don't be afraid." He took a breath, his voice catching in his throat. "Here comes the air."

Morgan's hands clenched once on his father's jeans, then slowly relaxed their grip. His fingers lengthened, spreading out across the denim, his muscles suddenly limp.

A moment hovered, a moment in which I stared at Morgan, willing him to move again, willing him to do something, say something, willing him to show us he was still awake, he was still with us, even though he'd let go. Letting go could mean two things. It could either mean Graham was right; that it was over, that he could breathe, that he was OK. Or it could mean he was...

My fist pressed against my mouth, teeth grazing the skin of my knuckles.

Morgan blinked. He was still alive. He was still with us.

I breathed out properly, almost collapsing. He was still with us. He was still with us.

Graham seemed to be coming to the same conclusion.

"Don't be afraid, Morgan." His voice held a new level of determination, his arms tighter around his son. "Feel my chest. Breathe with me." Morgan's chest rose and fell, in rhythm with his father's. "Together. The air is going in our lungs. Together."

I could feel the push of tears at my eyes as I watched them. Father and son clung together like drowning men.

"We're the same." Graham's voice broke and he buried his head in his son's hair. "We're the same." He closed his eyes, his head ducking forward, his face creased with tears. Morgan's head fell back, cheeks white with exhaustion.

Nobody spoke for a very long moment. I sat still, fist pressed to my mouth, not daring to move, terrified that one flinch would trigger an avalanche of emotion. I sat very, very still, closed my eyes, and counted. And counted. And counted. All I could do was sitl, aware, very aware of Bo leaning against me and Merrill's arm around my shoulders, and the sound of my own breathing, echoing in my ears as though a reminder of my own constant existence.

_What had just happened?_

It was Merrill's voice that finally broke the silence, his words a soft whisper. "We should save the flashlights." His whisper was hoarse in his throat and he didn't look away from his brother once. I leaned further into him, and at this distance, I could make out the moisture in his eyes, the tracks of liquid down his cheeks.

Graham remained motionless, his arms around Morgan. He didn't look up. He didn't nod. He didn't speak. Instead, he merely reached out, fingers closing around his flashlight and with a flick of his wrist, extinguished the glow of the bulb.

Bo, still holding her own, glanced up at Merrill and I. Her eyes widened, as though asking permission.

Merrill and I exchanged a short look, my eyes finding his, before Merrill gave her one small nod.

Bo's finger moved over the switch and once again, the basement was plunged into blackness.

I moved into Merrill's arms, my head lolling onto his shoulder. His mouth found my ear. "You OK?"

I nodded, communicating by movement in the dark. I leant into him, his arms around me, my hand finding Bo's hair. Through the darkness, I could still hear Morgan's laboured breathing, and my heart contracted.

"He'll be all right." Merrill's whisper was soft in my ear, and I stiffened, turning to stare at him-despite the fact he was completely invisible in the darkness.

"How do you know?" My own voice was low and my throat felt strangely tight, fastening over the words I wanted to say. "How do you know he'll be all right?"

A long second of silence passed before Merrill answered. "I don't know." His breath tickled my hair, and his arm tightened around me. "I just have to believe he will."

I swallowed hard. Believing with nothing to believe in.

"He's still here, so far, right?" I whispered.

Merrill nodded. "He's still here so far." He swallowed. "He's still here so far."

My head sank into his shoulder and my eyes closed. My body felt weak, almost as though I'd been running for miles. I breathed out, suddenly feeling shaky, almost ill, as though everything was hitting me at once.

"It's OK." Merrill's voice was gentle, low and his hand brushed a strand of hair off my face. "It's OK now. Try to sleep."

My head nodded into his shoulder, and my eyes remained closed, my mind drifting. A sudden feeling of exhaustion seemed to sink into the pit of my stomach, and I moved further into Merrill, my arm sliding around Bo's shoulders. My eyes stayed closed, my thoughts scattering as I slipped into sleep.

_I stand very still. Dean Thompson's office seems to sway slightly around me. I swallow hard. My father's words seem to echo off the walls, reverberating through my brain. An accident. An accident._

"_What type of accident?" My voice is strange, shrill, high-pitched. My chest suddenly seems to be tighter, the air constricted. "Is she OK? Is she in hospital?"_

_My mother lets out a strange, strangled moan. She sinks down into a chair, her face pressed into her hand._

_I stare at her. My eyes are suddenly burning, and my lungs feel stretched tight. "What?" I know what, I know what, I know what but I can't hear anyone say it._

_My father does not look at me. Instead, he determinedly stares at the floor, his gaze fixed on the skirting board. "Isabelle." His voice is low, gruff, catches in his throat, but he doesn't cry. He doesn't cry. "Colleen's dead."_

_I shake my head. I know what he said, but I must have misheard. It can't have just happened like that. Things don't just happen like that. They can't do. "What?" My throat seems to be swelling tighter and tighter, and my voice is suddenly tiny, as though it might die away._

"_Colleen..." My father's voice tails away, as I stare at him, shaking my head. "No." I keep shaking my head, because if I do, then none of this is real. Colleen's not dead, and this hasn't happened and life will go on as usual._

"_Isabelle..."_

"_She's not dead." I turn away from him, facing the wall. My hands cover my ears. I can't hear any more. I'm not crying. Why aren't I crying?_

"_Isabelle..." My father moves toward me. "Isabelle, she's..."_

"_She's not dead." I spin, my hands over my ears. "Leave me alone." I press myself into the wall. I curl up tighter against the plaster. "She's not dead, not dead, not dead..." My voice is a whisper now, and I keep my lips moving, keep hissing to myself, something fighting in my chest, a ball of pain curling up and blocking my throat with hot sobs which won't come out of my mouth._

"_She's not dead, she's not dead..."_

"_Isabelle..." I don't know who's said my name and I can't hear anyway. I press my hands tighter over my ears._

"_She's not dead, not dead, not dead..."_

"_ISABELLE!" My father's voice cuts through the whispering and my hands fall from my ears. His hands land on my shoulders. "Stop this, OK? Just stop it!" His voice cracks on the last word. "Stop saying it's not true. It's not going to make it less true." His face seems to be breaking, dissolving and I shake my head because that way I don't have to see properly. "She's..."_

"_Shut up." I pull away from him. "Shut UP!" I press my hands back to my ears. "She's not dead, not dead..."_

"_STOP IT!" My father's arms suddenly pull my arms from my ears and his eyes meet mine. I stare up at him, my mouth temporarily shocked into silence._

_My father seems stunned too. He stares at his arms as if he can't believe what he's just done. He steps back, letting go of me. "Isabelle..." He holds his arms up as though in surrender._

_I know it's wrong, know it's upsetting him more, but I still press myself back into the wall. I press my hands over my ears. And this time he doesn't try to stop me. He just stares at me, some vague expression coming into his eyes that I don't see because my own flicker shut again. I keep them closed._

"_She's not dead." It's a whisper, and there's still no tears. No tears coming down my face. "Not dead." _

_There's a louder chant inside my brain. My whispering gets faster as it tries to shut it up._

"_She's not dead. She's not dead..."_

_The muttering in my head is louder now. I grind my teeth but it won't shut up._

"_She's not dead. She's not dead..."_

_My brain whispers._

_It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault, your fault,..._

"_She's not dead..."_

_It's your fault..._

"_She's not dead..."_

_Your fault, your fault, your fault..._

_Stop it. Stop it. _

_The murmuring grows louder. Your fault, your fault, yourfaultyourfaultfaultfault faultfault..._

"STOP IT!"

"Isabelle!"

My eyes flew open, my own gasps yanking me back to consciousness. The darkness pressed in on me like a physical force the moment my eyes opened. I stared around frantically, heart pounding in my chest. My eyes were wet and dimly I registered that there was sweat clinging to my skin.

Merrill was holding me close to him, his voice fierce in my ear. "It's OK, it's OK..." He held me closer, his skin pressed against mine, and he murmured, soothing words that made no sense but made me feel better, made the shaking subside, my hands clinging to his shirt, the fabric soft between my fingers.

I pulled back slightly, my mind flickering to Bo. I tried to speak, but my teeth were chattering weirdly and for some reason I couldn't stop gasping every time I opened my mouth. Merrill held me tighter to him, his lips murmuring against my ear, moving against my skin, planting a series of quick kisses against my cheek. "It's all right, sweetheart, it's all right...Isabelle, I'm here, it's OK, it's OK, baby..."

I clung onto him and struggled to calm down, but the gasping, sobbing sound continued. I clung to Merrill's shirt, closed my eyes in an effort to stop for a moment, just a moment-it didn't do much good, the basement was that dark-and buried my head in his chest.

I bit my lip, my teeth sinking into my skin, praying I didn't wake anyone up. They needed to sleep. They all needed to sleep-Morgan needed rest, if he woke up, it would be my fault...

_Your fault, your fault..._

A high-pitched noise escaped my throat, and I buried my head further into Merrill's chest, his arms closing around me. I could feel his heart slamming against my cheek, and somehow that calmed me slightly, bringing my breathing gradually back to a regular rhythm.

Merrill's hand tipped my chin gently up so that my eyes met his. I could just make them out in the dark of the basement, glittering with some light reflected from somewhere. They looked suspiciously liquid, and he dropped his gaze, his voice sounding muffled. "What's wrong?"

I shook my head, my lips moving. "I had a dream."

The words sounded stupid, small, idiotic. Pathetic.

But Merrill just pulled me closer. Tears still fell, scorching my cheeks, and I closed my eyes, burrowing further into him. "Want to talk about it?"

I sniffed, head shaking slightly. "Maybe in a bit." Because the memory was still crashing around my head and I'd do anything to put it off for a little longer. I clung closer to him, my ears catching the sound of Morgan's laboured breathing in the darkness. "Is he OK?"

Merrill nodded. "I moved him off Graham a while back." His voice was gentle, a hoarse whisper through the darkness. A warm weight against me told me Bo was still blissfully asleep. Still, I had to check.

"I didn't wake anyone up, right?"

Merrill's head shook against mine. I frowned-it was weird, interpreting his gestures by touch, rather than sight. "Just me. You were thrashing a little, though. I shook you awake."

I stared at him, the weight of what he'd said still sinking into my throat. "I woke you up? Oh God-"

Merrill's head was shaking before I could finish my sentence. "No, it's OK, it's OK..." His voice was gentle, and his finger found the skin of my cheek. "I didn't mind." His voice was a breath of reassurance and I closed my eyes, sinking into the warmth of his arms around me. "I wouldn't want you to wake up on your own." He pulled back slightly, his eyes finding mine again.

"Want to tell me what your dream was about?"

I stared at him, teeth nibbling at my lip. I wanted to. Or a part of me wanted to. But-

"You don't have to."

"No-" I shook my head, not wanting him to think I was refusing on principle. "It's just I-can I wait a bit? It's just-it's kind of-" I sighed, giving up on explanation. Not that Merrill seemed to need it.

"It's OK." His voice was low, and gentle in its' quiet.

I sighed, head sliding onto his chest, his arm curling around my back. We sat still for a second, my eyes gazing into the darkness.

"Do you think they're still out there?" I didn't need to specify what I was talking about.

Merrill didn't speak but he nodded slowly and my heart seemed to freeze for a moment.

"Merrill-" I swallowed. "I can't stop thinking about it." My voice broke on the last word, and I ducked into his shirt, the fabric comforting against my skin. I closed my eyes, burrowing into him, deriving comfort from the heat of his body, the sensation of his arms around me.

"It's OK..."

Merrill's hand danced over my arm, quickening my pulse. "Did it hurt you earlier?" I glanced up, confused, and he gestured at my shoulder. "Where it grabbed you?"

Thinking back to it sent a visceral shiver up my spine. "Not really." I moved closer to him, the cold suddenly sinking into my skin. "I keep thinking about them being just outside that door..." I bit my lip, my eyes drifting to Morgan. "Is he OK?"

Merrill nodded, despite my repetition of the question. "He's-" He broke off, struggling. "He's better than I expected him to be." A look of relief swept his face, as though he'd thought of just the right phrase. "Better than I expected."

I sighed. "He's breathing all right?" I could hear through the darkness-harsh, hoarse breaths, that indicated a fighting life lying just a few feet away.

Merrill nodded. "He needs his medicine, though." His voice trailed away and his arms tightened around me. I closed my eyes, hating the thought that Morgan's medication, his syringes and inhalers, lay so close, impossible to reach.

"I keep telling myself I should just sneak up there and grab it." Merrill's muscles were tensed, his voice tight, and I grabbed his arm, already shaking my head. "No, Merrill..."

"It would just take a second-"

"_No. _It's way, way too dangerous." I pointed to the door. "They're still out there."

Merrill's voice cracked. "But he needs it."

"Yeah, and how's it going to help him if you go out, get grabbed and about twenty aliens come pouring through the door? They-" I broke off, wincing at the harshness of my own words. "Sorry."

Merrill shook his head. "It's ...fine." But his voice was dull and I knew my words had got to him somehow. I closed my eyes. _Why, Isabelle? Why, why, why?_

"I'm sorry" I whispered into the darkness. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just-" Tears welled up and I pushed them back. "I couldn't stand it if something happened to you." The words hovered in the air, tentative, fragile, liable to be crushed, a baby bird taking its' first flight.

Merrill tensed for a moment, before slowly turning towards me. "I know." His voice caught in his throat. "I'm an idiot. If it was you talking about going, I'd be telling you not to go either." He sighed, pulling me closer to him, his lips brushing my hair. Bo shifted against us, murmured something in her sleep. "I just-" He sighed. "That's not the only reason I'm not going."

I stared at him. "Why else?"

Merrill shook his head, dropping his gaze. I watched him curiously. "What?"

Merrill swallowed hard. "I'm scared, Isabelle" he said simply, his eyes meeting mine. "I'm scared."

Something in the simplicity of it-the sweet, sad, simplicity of it-broke my heart in two and I reached out to him, almost without realizing. His head buried into my shoulder and his eyes flickered shut. For a moment, I wondered if he was crying.

"There's nothing wrong with being scared." My voice was louder than I'd intended, and I froze, wondering if anyone else had woken up. By the sounds of it, no, but Bo shifted again in her sleep and I knew I had to tone it down.

I lowered my voice. "There's nothing wrong with being scared." I stroked his shirt tentatively, praying I was doing the right thing. I leaned in closer, my mouth brushing his cheek. "All I can think about is what's outside." My voice was a whisper, the confession seemingly dredged up from somewhere dark, buried. "All I can think of is what if they get in?"

Merrill jumped. "Don't say that." He leaned into me, his head now on my shoulder. "I should get his medicine."

"_No."_

"He needs it."

"Yeah, and we need you!" I sighed, pulling back slightly to look at him. "You don't get it, Merrill. You can't just go running out of here. If something's waiting out there, we're all worse off, Morgan included. The best thing we can do right now is let him sleep, and get him his medicine the second we're sure the coast's clear."

Merrill glared at me for a moment, his eyes suddenly glittering and I braced myself for a whispered fight. But a second later, all the resolve seemed to sink out of him. His body went limp, and his head fell back onto my shoulder. "I'm pathetic."

I just about went through the ceiling. "You're not pathetic! You're just not risking your life by heading out to confront extraterrestrials!"

That sentence had sounded a lot better in my head, obviously.

Merrill didn't seem to care, though. "I should, though" he murmured, his arm sliding around my back. "He needs it."

"He needs his uncle more" I reminded him. "And we couldn't wake him up now, anyway. He's tired, he needs to rest. We'll probably be able to get out of here by morning."

Merrill sighed and shifted slightly, his hand finding mine. The feel of his skin against mine, the sensation of his fingers folding around mine, seemed to send an electric shock up my arm, and I ducked my head, hiding my smile.

I glanced around the basement, eyes wary. The darkness was full of objects, images of objects, which turned into countless horrors in my fevered imagination. My fingers tightened in Merrill's and my eyes wandered to Morgan, barely finding him in the shadows. He slept on his side, his back to us, hair brushing his arm. His breathing was audible from six feet away, harsh breaths that tore at the air.

"Merrill?" My voice wavered slightly.

Merrill turned his head, propping himself up against the bags behind us, so that our faces were less than an inch apart. "What?"

I looked away, struggling to explain what I wanted to say. "It's just-can we-" I sighed, my head clearing slightly as Bo shifted against me, her eyes lost in sleep. "Can we just talk about something? Anything? I just-want a distraction." From my dreams, I didn't add. From the thoughts crashing around my head about the night my sister died.

Merrill's gaze was long, appraising, but after a moment, he nodded and I breathed a silent sigh of relief. "What do you want to talk about?" Our voices were whispers, close enough for us to feel.

I shrugged, my eyes travelling once again, to the scar above his mouth. "Tell me something."

"What?" Merrill's lips twitched in a quick grin, his eyes flickering to my mouth. I remembered how it had felt earlier, my hands in his hair, his lips gentle, coaxing against mine, and felt a shiver run down my spine-a very different kind to the way I'd been trembling a few minutes before.

"Something I don't know." I thought for a moment. "I ask you a question and you have to answer it honestly." I smiled, pushing the thought of aliens out of my mind. I had to-I had to push it away to keep myself sane. Or at least, as sane as I already was.

Merrill smirked. "What-you mean, like truth or dare?"

"Sort of. But without the dare." I smiled, and it was crazy-we could have been sitting in the family room having this conversation. We could have been sitting outside, lying on the grass, watching the sun set, over the corn crops one summer night. But we were down here, with wood barricading the door, and a sick little boy only a few feet away from us... talking just like normal.

I'd imagined the end of the world many times, but never had I imagined it to be like this. I wondered if the world had ended outside, and we were the only ones who didn't know. I wondered if we'd slipped through a time paradox and when we came out of the basement, a thousand years would have gone by. I wondered if this was the apocalypse as we knew it.

I wondered about my parents.

I pushed the thought away, focusing on Merrill once again. His lips curled up in a crooked smile, as his eyes met mine. "I'd have liked to dare you." I could taste the whisper on my lips.

I leaned into him. "Me too. But we can't." My finger rose to his cheek, tracing his skin. "Wish we could, though."

Merrill's smile was soft and made the breath catch in my throat. "What do you want to ask, then?"

I stared at him, for a moment, my eyes travelling his face, flickering to the scar on his upper lip. My finger moved over it softly. "Where did you get that?"

Merrill followed suit, tracing the small mark with his finger. "This?" His laugh was gentle and he leaned against me, his eyes closing for a moment. I stared at him, marvelling for a second at how he looked-his eyelashes flat against his cheeks, the way his eyelids flickered slightly, as though debating how to answer, the way his eyes met mine once they opened-

_Enough of the Mills and Boon, Isabelle. Let's get back to the question._

Merrill shrugged, leaning against me. I felt my heart quicken at the contact. "I don't know. I was just born with it. It's been there forever." His finger travelled to his lip again and I caught it between two of my own. "I like it." My voice came out softer than I'd intended. "You look sort of, I don't know-mysterious."

Merrill burst out laughing and I leapt into a cacophony of shushing, probably making a lot more noise in my efforts to silence him. Bo stirred slightly in her sleep but didn't wake. Merrill leaned against me, his arm reassuring around my shoulders, as his laughter slowly subsided.

"Mysterious?" he whispered incredulously, when he could speak in a whisper once again.

"I was thinking on my feet..."

Merrill shook his head, still laughing. It seemed absurd that we could be doing this-sitting here, laughing, when there could be extraterrestrials clawing down the door in a matter of minutes. Absurd and surreal, and yet at the same time I couldn't stop. I guess everyone needs to forget once in a while.

"Your go." My voice was low and before I could lose my nerve, I leaned in, brushing my lips against Merrill's cheek. His grin grew tenfold and I let my eyes drop, feeling the blood flood to my cheeks. It still felt strange to just kiss him.

"Erm..." Merrill slumped back against the bags, his eyes distant for a moment, lost in consideration. I waited, anticipation growing, for whatever question he'd come up with. "OK." He turned to me, grin playing at the corner of his mouth. "Most daring thing you've ever done. And it's got to be something good."

I frowned, my own head tipping back, as I thought. "Don't know..."

"Come on-"

"No, seriously-" I blinked, a memory suddenly sparking, and other recollections following, a chain reaction of neurons. "Got one!"

Merrill shifted slightly, hand sliding to the back of my neck, eyes alive with interest. "What?"

I grinned, tucking my hair behind my ears, shaking it out of my eyes, where it obscured my view. "I walked along the roof of my house when I was eleven."

Merrill laughed. "Why?"

"It was a dare. I dared myself to. And I did it. I walked the entire length of the roof." I grinned once again, the memory serving me long forgotten pride. "I was able to, as well. Ask my mother if you don't believe me. She yelled at me for three hours straight, so the event is pretty well ingrained in her mind." I sighed. "If we ever get out of here, you can ask her."

Merrill pulled me into him, my head burrowing into the crook of his neck. Yeah, I know, I know. It was girly. So what? We were in extenuating circumstances.

"It'll be OK." Merrill's voice was soft. "We'll get out of here. It'll all be fine."

I knew it was pointless asking, but I let the question out anyway. "How do you know?" I whispered. "How can you be so sure?"

It took Merrill a long moment to answer. "I'm not" he whispered, lips stroking my cheek. "I've just got to be."

And somehow, that made sense to me.

I snuggled further into him, hand finding Bo's hair, stroking her head absent-mindedly. She murmured something and I stared at her, taking in her face, wreathed in slumber, her eyes, barely visible in the darkness of the basement, lids flickering as she slept. REM sleep-dreams.

"My go" I whispered, after several long moments had passed in silence. "I've got a question."

"Shoot."

I smiled, propping myself up on one elbow. My eyes met Merrill's in the dark. "Who was your first kiss with?"

Merrill's grin became an outright smirk, the blood rising to his cheeks. I laughed, my eyes drifting to his mouth. "You've got to answer the question" I whispered. "It's the rule."

Merrill laughed, avoiding my eyes as he pulled himself further upright, so that his head leaned against the bags behind him. "OK..." He sighed, eyes closing, apparently lost in a memory. I suppressed the urge to grit my teeth.

"Can't actually remember-"

"Don't lie, everyone remembers their first kiss." I stared at him, brow furrowing. "Most people do, anyway."

Merrill shrugged. "I remember bits of it, if that's what you want." He sighed, eyes blinking slightly rapidly, as though something irritated them. "I was twelve. Some girl in my class called Ashley-"

"Ashley?"

"Ashley."

I nodded, silently committing the name to memory. I wouldn't want to forget it.

"Came over and told me to meet her in the gym at lunch" Merrill continued, shooting me an amused look, as though reading my thoughts. I shrugged, deliberately picking at a thread on my jeans to distract myself. "I went along, she came in, closed the door, came up to me and told me to close my eyes. I asked why and she said just to close them."

"So you did?"

"Yeah. And then she did it."

"Did what?" Did he have to make it sound like a kiss from a girl was some kind of personal assault?

"Kissed me." Merrill leaned back, apparently satisfied with his own answer, eyes meeting mine in a questioning gaze. "OK, my turn."

"That's it?" I stared at him. Merrill stared back, eyes narrowed uncomprehendingly. "That's what?"

"All you remember?" Merrill nodded, confusion clouding his features. "Yeah. What's wrong with that?"

I rolled my eyes. "Nothing, nothing, just-" I froze, holding my hand up for Merrill to quieten down. I sat still, ears strained, listening for any sound, any movement...

Something moved near the wall.

A small cry crawled from my throat, my hand gripping Merrill's sleeve, fabric tight between my fingers. Merrill shushed me, hand on my arm, though his own jaw was tense, eyes stretched wide.

"You don't think one of them managed to-" My whisper was tight, stretched with not being a scream.

Merrill shook his head, eyes narrowed. "Listen."

There was another scratching sound. Then another one. I tensed, ducking into Merrill's arms. My hands tightened on Bo's shoulders. No way was anything getting near her. Not if I had to fight down every single bloody extraterrestrial in the place.

One more scratching noise. The small sound of a scuffle.

Then silence.

Slowly, very slowly, I eased my death grip on Merrill's shirt. I breathed out, aware that I hadn't exhaled properly for minutes. Merrill, too, relaxed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. From my position, I could feel his heart slamming against mine.

"What was that?" My whisper was hoarse, my eyes searching his.

Staring back at me, Merrill shook his head slowly. "I don't know."

"Do you think it was one of –" I swallowed. It wasn't that I had an aversion to using the word "alien" but it did feel kind of bizarre.

Merrill shook his head slowly. His eyes were wide as he raised a finger to his lips.

I listened.

Nothing.

Merrill exhaled. "Thought I heard something..."

I cast another wary glance around the basement, eyes darting from one shadow to another. "You reckon we're OK?"

Merrill nodded. "Think so." He glanced quickly behind us, as though expecting to see another hand reaching from the coal chute. I stiffened at the memory.

Several minutes crawled by in silence. I glanced at Merrill only to see him staring straight ahead, uncharacteristically tense. I guessed he was still listening for any suspicious noise.

I moved closer to him, my hand dancing over his sleeve. "Merrill?"

Merrill turned slowly to face me, eyes still guarded, wary. "Yeah?"

I shrugged, hand pulling at a strand of hair. "Your go?"

Merrill blinked. "Right." He leaned back, and I glanced warily at the sandbags. They'd looked pretty strong earlier, but what if they weren't enough? What if they couldn't keep us safe? What if-

Merrill's voice was low. "You're sure you want me to ask?"

I frowned, a suspicion slowly dawning in my mind. "Yeah..." My voice was uncertain as I glanced at Merrill.

Merrill sighed. "OK..." He turned so he was facing me, eyes watching me with undivided attention. He swallowed, and I watched the movement of his throat. What the hell could he be this worried about asking me? I forced myself to meet his gaze, trying to ignore the feeling of blood rising to my cheeks.

Merrill stared at me, his gaze unflinching, even as he chewed his lip, looking uncharacteristically nervous. "What was your dream really about?" His voice was low, even for a whisper, and he didn't look away from me.

I swallowed hard. That wasn't what I'd expected.

Merrill pulled me into his shoulder, lips kissing my cheek. I bit my lip, struggling for words. "I-"

Merrill brushed my hair behind my shoulders with his hands, and I felt myself shudder slightly, the tension from earlier returning with a vengeance. "You don't have to tell me." His voice was low, and I winced at the disappointment in his tone, hidden as it was.

"I want to tell you." I stared down at my knees, somehow unable to meet Merrill's gaze.

Merrill's hand crept under my chin, tipping my face upright so that our gazes met once again. "But?" he asked, obviously picking up on the unspoken second half of my sentence.

I swallowed, eyes suddenly stinging. "But..." I swallowed again, forcing myself to meet Merrill's eyes, despite the sinking feeling in my chest. "But I'm scared to."

Merrill stared at me. "Why?" His eyes watched me, confusion pooling in the blue-green. I stared at him, wondering how I could ever explain it to him.

"I just don't talk about what's in my dreams" I whispered finally, breaking eye contact once again. "Not to people. Not about my nightmares. And I don't talk about what I dreamt about tonight."

I closed my eyes. I couldn't see Merrill's expression but I could imagine him probably deciding he couldn't be bothered. I mean, who would want to be? Aliens were attacking and all I could think about was some nightmare that got me all worked up. How did that work out?

Merrill's hand slipped under my chin once again. "Isabelle." His voice was low, barely audible, and somehow more powerful than if he'd shouted. "Just tell me."

It wasn't a command. But there was something under the words-something solid, something definite, that somehow crept through my lips and made me open my mouth.

"I was remembering." I leaned into Merrill, inhaling the scent of his shirt, the feeling of his arms around me, losing myself in the warmth of him. I felt the familiar burning feeling in my eyes, but I didn't cry. I didn't stop.

"Remembering what?" Merrill's voice was gentle, his hand stroking my hair. His thumb danced across the skin of my cheek, a caress that made me giddy for a moment, before I could carry on.

My voice cracked in my throat. "My sister."

I couldn't see Merrill from my position against his chest, but I could feel the movement of his throat as he swallowed hard. There was a long silence.

I sat up straight, turning to face him. "I've got to tell you something."

Merrill's eyes were the only things I could see through the darkness as he looked at me. "What?"

I swallowed hard, but I had to say this. I had to. It was the thing I'd kept quiet, the thing I'd never said to anyone and I might as well do it now.

"The night my sister died-" I closed my eyes, willing myself to go on. "I-"

I stopped, biting my lip. Merrill nodded gently, encouraging me to continue.

"I should have-" I stared up at Merrill, teeth nibbling at my skin. Merrill stared at me, eyes puzzled. "What?" His voice was soft.

I closed my eyes, memories once again drifting through my head. Less welcome than usual, this time.

_I sigh, as I pace the room, phone pressed to my ear. Colleen's voice echoes harshly into my eardrum, the cell pressing into my fingers._

"_What do you mean, Isabelle?"_

_I bite my lip, glancing around the empty dorm anxiously, my eyes drifting to the pile of overdue work still sitting on my bed. "I can't come. I'm sorry."_

_I can picture Colleen's face on the other end of the phone and my heart contracts. "I'm sorry." My voice is weak, as pathetic as my excuse sounds._

_Colleen sighs, disappointment echoed in one exhalation. "Isabelle, I haven't seen you in two months." Sadness wracks her tone and I close my eyes, struggling to keep my voice level._

"_I know. But I've got stacks of work to do and-"_

_Colleen cuts me off. "No need to explain." Her voice isn't brisk or dismissive. It's sad and quiet and it makes everything a million times worse._

_I sigh. "I'm sorry." My voice sounds even more pathetic than my last apology._

_It is a long moment before Colleen answers. "Me too, Isabelle. Me too." She exhales once again as I clutch the phone nervously, eyes on the floor, wondering how to end the conversation. _

"_Well, I guess I'll see you soon." Colleen's voice echoes in my ear, and makes me wince. _

"_Colleen-" I don't want to leave things like this with her. I don't. I want to say something else, something to make up for all of this, something to make her feel better, something to say I'm sorry. But I don't have the words._

"_What?"_

_A long moment of silence hangs in the air, before I answer. "Give Morgan and Bo and Graham my love. Tell them I'm sorry."_

_A beat before my sister's reply whispers low into my ear. "I will."_

_Another second of silence. "Well, see you, Isabelle." My sister sounds exhausted, deflated, and I bite my lip, wishing I could say something, anything, to make her feel better. But what can I say?"_

"_See you, Colleen."_

_The sound of the phone hanging up at the end is like a full stop at the end of a sentence that I wish could have gone on just a bit longer. But what point is there wishing?_

_Wishes don't often come true._

"I was supposed to be with her" I whispered, head buried in Merrill's shirt. "I was supposed to see her and I didn't go."

Merrill's hands tightened on my sleeves. "Isabelle." His voice somehow made me slowly raise my head, my eyes meeting his. "It wasn't your fault." His voice was shaky, low, but fiercely determined and the jagged look in his eyes startled me. "It wasn't your _fault_." He hugged me to him. "It was an accident. What happened to your sister was an _accident."_

I lowered my eyes. "I know" I whispered. "But I can't help thinking-"

Merrill stared at me. "What?"

I swallowed and whispered the secret I'd been dying to keep.

"If I'd been with her, I'd have been walking with her." My voice was hoarse, low, and caught in my throat as I spoke. I stared at Merrill, willing him to grasp what I was trying to say. "I'd have been there, too." I stared at him, eyes fierce, wondering if he'd caught the meaning of my words.

Merrill stared at me. "But-" I watched as the realisation dawned in his eyes, shaking his head before I could even continue.

"I'd have been there, too." I shook my own head, continuing before he could stop me. "What if it'd been a different way around? What if the truck had hit me instead-"

"Don't say that." Merrill's voice was low in his throat and his grip on my arms tightened almost painfully. "Don't ever say that. Ever." He was shaking but it wasn't with anger. An emotion just as intense, but it wasn't anger. "Don't ever wish that."

I swallowed, throat tight and painful, eyes burning. "But what if-"

"_Don't."_ Merrill held me to him, his body tight, trembling. "Don't wish it was you instead of her."

I swallowed. "I just-she was-better-she was special-she" Hot liquid scorched my cheeks, and I tried to look away before my shoulders shook.

And then Merrill's arms were around me, and my head was buried in his neck and my mouth was near enough to his ear to tip my head and whisper my biggest secret, "Sometimes I feel guilty for being here when she's not."

And then I cried. For the first time in six months, ever since my sister died, and maybe since before that, maybe for the first time in years, I cried. Properly cried, I mean, my head lying on Merrill's shoulder, and he held me. He didn't walk away from me. He didn't leave me on my own. He just stayed still and hugged me and whispered to me and held me.

And I cried into his shirt for what seemed like hours and Bo slept on, and the night dwelt in the basement.

I don't know how long passed before my crying quietened, before the shaking subsided. But I know that I leant into Merrill's chest, my ear against his heart, my hand stroking the skin of his neck. Neither of us spoke. My eyes closed, a strange kind of exhaustion sinking into me.

And I know that even after that crying, even after that fit of hopeless storming, despite the hideousness of the circumstances, I didn't feel hopeless. I felt...more peaceful. Somehow.

Not completely peaceful. But more peaceful.

And despite the fact there were aliens outside the door, despite the fact that I'd spent the last hour bawling my eyes out, despite the fact I was sleeping on a basement floor, I felt that maybe things were moving forward, after all. Maybe it was a kind of looking on all of its' own.

Maybe that's all I had for a while.

I closed my eyes. I burrowed further into Merrill's chest. And we sat still, each of us lost in our own thoughts, as we waited, with growing apprehension, for the morning to come.

**Hope that was worth the wait! I will try and update within a month or so! Please leave me a review!**


	13. Confronting

**Hey, just take some time to read this before you read the chapter. It's just something I wanted to say.**

**Hi guys. So it's been-what, two months? Wow. I'm a true disgrace.**

**Anyway, let me just say I am REALLY, REALLY sorry that it has taken this long. There has been a lot going on lately-I have had about five exams sprung on me out of nowhere-I've had work to do-I know that that isn't an excuse for how long this one took. I know.**

**But here it is. And I really hope that this chapter can make up for at least part of how long it took.**

**Right, let me just say; this is the penultimate chapter. The next one-which, I swear on my GRAVE will be up much, much sooner than this one was-will be the epilogue. An epilogue. My God, it's been nearly a year since I started writing this. Wow.**

**Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you, for taking the time to read this if you've done so, and also thank you for the insane amounts of reviews and alerts I've gotten. Signs isn't that big of a fandom and I didn't expect to get as many as ten favourites, so thank you for that. There's going to be an epilogue and then- I don't know. I was thinking of doing another story at some point, because I've got some ideas, but I might leave it for a while. So if I do another story, whether it's a sequel or something entirely new in the Signs fandom, it would be a couple of months before it appeared.**

**But that's something I'll put a bit more about in the epilogue chapter. This is the penultimate chapter, and there's just one thing I want to say before I shut up and let you read; I've read quite a few other fanfics where people have posted little soundtracks at the end of each chapter. Just songs they listened to that they thought fit the chapter. Now, I had quite a bit of music I listened to, that helped me write this, and I just wondered if anyone wanted me to put up a couple of the songs? I know, you're probably all thinking "What the hell? You actually think anyone wants to know your music taste?" But I was just wondering. If you think that would be a good idea, just PM me or leave it in a review. If not, it's cool.**

**Anyway, that's it for the insanely long chapter notes. I'll let you get on with the chapter now-and once again, I'm sorry it took this long. The next one will be up MUCH QUICKER.**

**Once again, reviews would be welcome!**

_He is lying on the ground, skin stretched pale, lips pulled back, in a silent circle. Someone is holding him close, their arms wrapped around his chest, whispering something. His head tilts back, body ominously still, his little sister crouched in front of him. A stifled sob breaks in somebody's throat._

_I can't remember the rest of it, but I feel my breath catch in my chest, a wave of nausea curling in my stomach._

The basement seemed different the next time I opened my eyes. The light had returned-there was a bulb fitted once again in the ceiling-and the area was starkly illuminated as I sat up, but something seemed different somehow. I couldn't put my finger on what it was, but something seemed changed-like when you go into a room and something is different, and you just can't put your finger on what. I stared, my eyes still heavy, head slumping back against the pillar.

"Sleep OK?" I almost jumped at the sound of Merrill's voice, so close to my ear. His words were a whisper, and at the sensation of his arm sliding around my shoulders, it took me only a moment to remember the events of the previous night. I winced.

"Yeah." Slowly, I turned to face him, my eyes roving down his face. I felt strange-still tired, and slightly nauseous-I guessed that was what sleeping upright on a basement floor did for you. I felt the blood rise to my cheeks, chewing at my lip. "Listen-you know, last night-"

Merrill nodded, his eyes suddenly softening, more serious. "You OK now?" His finger traced the skin of my cheek and I closed my eyes, wanting to sink into the touch.

"Yeah." I whispered the word, leaning into him. Merrill's lips brushed the skin of my neck, as he pulled me into a hug, and I shivered, wanting him nearer, closer.

_Now is not the time._

I pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. "Sorry about-you know-collapsing on you like that-"

Merrill shook his head, his eyes clouded with genuine puzzlement. "What do you mean?" He pulled me closer, hands playing with my hair. "You don't have to be sorry." He pressed his lips to my cheek, and I let my mouth move into a smile, a sense of relief sweeping through me. Merrill let his eyes meet mine, finger gently tracing under my bottom lip, nudging it into a smile. "You feel better?"

I nodded, a genuine smile forming now. I touched my hand to the skin of Merrill's neck and felt my smile grow as he closed his eyes, my fingers dancing behind his ear, apparently enjoying the sensation. I leant closer, letting my lips whisper across his neck for a moment, his sudden shiver sending a strange warmth into me, an assortment of increasingly detailed thoughts creeping into my head.

I blinked, trying to clear my mind slightly. Just until the alien invasion was over. I guessed that that kind of had to take priority.

Merrill sighed as I pulled back slightly, my eyes meeting his once again. "You sleep OK?" I kept my mouth close to his as I spoke, so that he could almost taste the words on his lips. This close to him, I could feel the warmth of his skin, hear the way his breathing had turned suddenly ragged, almost sense his heartbeat, suddenly rapid in his chest. I swallowed, my own heart quickening slightly, my eyes darting involuntarily to Merrill's lips.

It seemed to take Merrill a moment to reply. "Yeah." He swallowed, before opening his eyes, his gaze meeting mine. I gestured upwards. "You found some lightbulbs?"

Merrill nodded. "Woke up about an hour ago. Was looking around the shelves when I found a packet." He sighed, my hand brushing his, as I shifted closer to him.

"Did they-" I glanced at the door, somehow unable to complete the sentence. I didn't know why, but I found it easier not to articulate the fears right now-the thoughts in my brain, images of hostile extraterrestrials marching into the basement, intent on murdering half of my family.

Merrill seemed to know what I was trying to say. "Been quiet all night" he whispered. "Nothing after you fell back asleep. And everyone seems fine." He indicated the others. "Apart from-" His voice trailed off.

I was on the slip of the tongue in a second. "Apart from? What does that mean?"

Merrill didn't speak. Instead, he simply pointed across the floor. I turned to look, stomach already recoiling, preparing myself for the scene.

At first, things seemed harmless enough. Bo lay curled next to us, fists balled into her cheeks, lost in dreams. Her eyelids fluttered slightly as she lay next to me, her mind finding respite temporarily in the workings of her thoughts. A few feet away sat Graham, head lolling onto his shoulder, eyes closed. He slept, even if only lightly. But my eyes kept searching, already anxious, already on edge, already struggling to locate the third figure.

It wasn't long before I found him.

Morgan lay just a few yards away. He was curled on his side, cheek pillowed on his hand. He faced away from us, but his unnatural stillness told me he was asleep. I swallowed hard-from what I could see the skin of his cheeks was at once both blanched and pale. His every breath was audible, a hoarse rattling in his chest, that reminded me of the monsters I'd once read of in a book, that sucked the joy from all the air around.

I stared at Morgan, eyes wide.

"He needs his medicine." Merrill's voice broke on the last word, and I turned to him, arms sliding around his shoulders. "I should have gone up and got it last night." His voice was a whisper, laced with guilt.

"No." I pulled back, my eyes meeting his. "They need you, Merrill. They need you too much to risk losing you. We've got to wait." My own voice cracked in my throat. "We've just got to wait."

Merrill shook his head, swallowing hard, as though choking something back. "Seeing him like this-" He ducked forward, hiding his gaze from mine, but I still caught sight of his eyes, despite his best efforts. They shone through the dark with unshed tears.

"You think I don't want to run out there, too?" My voice was quiet in my throat. "You think I don't want to run and grab his medicine? But we've got to wait, Merrill. We've got to." I swallowed, gripping his arms. "We'll give it about an hour, OK? Then..._then..._we could wake Graham up. We could ask him what he thinks. _Please."_ I watched him nervously, waiting, teeth chewing at my lip, worrying at the skin.

Merrill nodded slowly, apparently lost in his own thoughts. He turned to face me for a moment, his eyes meeting mine. "I just-I hate seeing him like this." This time, there was a definite break in his voice, and although he bowed his head once again, I couldn't fail to miss the tear that escaped, making its' way down his cheek. I raised my hand to his skin, catching the drop. "Don't cry."

Merrill tried to turn away, but I slid nearer to him, holding him to me. "It's OK-" I hardly knew the right words to say, but apparently it didn't matter. After a moment, Merrill turned back to me, and this time, he made no attempt to hide the tears in his eyes. A small choked noise sounded in his throat, and his head buried in my shoulder as my arms wrapped around his chest, as though holding him together. "It's OK...it's OK..."

I don't know how long we sat together like that, with Merrill's head buried in my shoulder, my own hands caressing his hair. I listened to the soft, muffled sounds that came from his throat-sounds that spoke of despair, of desperation, and I kissed his head, holding him while he cried, the way he'd done for me the previous night. His hands clung to my arms, and mine stroked the back of his neck, and we just held each other, for those wild, furious minutes in which we both railed against the impossibility of the situation and lost ourselves for a while in the black despair which seemed to settle in the heart of the basement that night.

It was a long time before Merrill raised his eyes to mine. His skin brushed my cheek, his eyes fluttering closed. "Sorry-"

I cut him off before he could continue with his apology. "You've got nothing to be sorry for."

Merrill struggled for a moment, but apparently, decided not to argue. His head fell onto my shoulder, and I leaned against him, my lips brushing his mouth gently. "It's OK." I stared at him, and his eyes met mine, slowly, a confused hope flickering in his gaze. "We made it through the night" I pointed out. "We're all still here."

Merrill nodded slowly. "I guess so." He scrubbed fiercely at his eyes with one hand. "Sorry-"

"Don't worry about it." Once again, my lips touched his cheek, and I felt the familiar shiver at the proximity.

I leaned into him, my arms sliding around his shoulders, my own eyes straying to Morgan. Despite my false vote of confidence with Merrill, I was beginning to worry myself. I wished I'd had the presence of mind to wear a watch-at least then I'd have some clue how long we'd been in there.

Sighing, I leaned back, wincing slightly. "Ouch-"

Merrill stared at me, concern creeping into his eyes. "What is it?"

I frowned, hand sliding to my back, my shoulder. It didn't ache, as would have been understandable after a night spent sleeping half upright. It stung slightly, almost like a scrape, or a cut. "I think I've-_cut _myself somehow-" I sat up, wishing I could see the injuries clearly. I twisted round, Merrill's arms catching me around the waist. "Hey, let's see-"

I stiffened slightly as his fingers brushed the skin through the fabric of my shirt. I swallowed, suddenly. "That's where it got me." The words sounded dim and hollow in the darkness of the basement. "That's where it grabbed me last night."

There was a moment of silence strained with thought, before Merrill's voice sounded, thin with worry. "You don't think-" His eyes met mine.

I shook my head. "It can't have done anything to me." My voice was overbright and I winced at the false cheer. "It can't have."

Merrill stared at me. "Are you sure?"

I struggled for a moment. Merrill raised an eyebrow.

I dropped my gaze. "Even if it has" I whispered. "It's not like we can do anything about it in here."

Merrill eyed me worriedly, arm sliding around my shoulders. "Does it hurt?"

"About as much as your average alien injury." My eyes met Merrill's and we both dissolved into near-silent laughter.

It was weird; we were sitting in a basement that, for all we knew, could be surrounded by hostile aliens, and we were laughing as though we were sitting in front of Frasier. But there was something good about it; some temporary freedom, a short escape.

A part of my brain-the sane, rational part, if that still existed-wondered why I couldn't stop, when just a few minutes earlier, I'd been close to crying. Merrill, too, was smirking, and it was only a moment, before he burst out laughing once again, though like me, he ducked his head, stifling the noise.

I leaned into him again, and Merrill's arms slid around me, pulling me to him. His body was pressed against mine and I could feel him shaking-with laughter this time, rather than tears-as he held me to him, my cheek suddenly brushing his. It was such a weird mixture of emotions-everything at once-and I understood what people meant by hysteria-a state so overemotional that it required some basic outlet-anything, even uncontrollable laughter. And it was an escape-a temporary escape, but an escape from the madness of the situation.

It was a while before my laughter calmed and I sighed, as I moved further into Merrill's arms. I frowned, twisting to see his face. "You know how long we've been down here?"

Merrill shrugged, an exaggerated raising of his shoulders, as his eyes met mine. "Eleven hours or so?" He sighed, eyes flickering to the light bulbs. "Haven't got a watch."

I sat up, careful not to dislodge Bo, who curled up in her sleep, hands tucked under her chin. She reminded me of a baby koala, tucked up sleeping. I spared a moment to smile fondly at her, before standing up, brushing the hair behind my shoulders.

"What are you doing?" Merrill stared up at me, eyes bemused as I turned, blinking hurriedly to wake myself up.

"Where's that radio you were using last night?" I crossed to the shelves, shifting several objects aside.

Merrill, too, was scrambling upright. "There's no point-it's broken." He stared at me. "What are you doing?"

"When did you last try it?" I was fiddling with the knob, holding the radio between my hands, examining the device curiously.

Merrill shrugged. "Last night, I guess."

"Maybe we could get a signal now." I turned the radio every which way, shaking it, holding it up to the lightbulb-as though that would provide any answers.

Merrill shook his head. "Maybe." But his tone was dubious, and from the quick glance he cast at the floor, I knew he didn't hold out much hope.

Which made me all the more determined to get it working.

"Come on..." I twiddled one of the knobs furiously, and was rewarded with a buzz of static. Merrill shrugged, coming over to stand beside me, narrowing his eyes as he watched the radio curiously. "That's the channel it's usually on, right?"

Merrill nodded. "But Graham hasn't used it in years..." He shrugged, eyebrows creasing in confusion, as he looked at the radio. "It might be broken" he pointed out warningly.

I shook my head. Even if it was, this was better than nothing. It had to be better than just waiting and worrying. There had to be _someone _out there.

There had to be.

I sighed, letting the radio fall back onto the shelf, leaning my head against it. "It's not freaking working." Merrill slid his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned into him, conceding wordless defeat. "You tried." Merrill's voice was soft in my ear, and I smiled, closing my eyes for a moment, before gently tilting my mouth to his. His lips were warm and soft and gentle, and I gratefully lost myself in him for a few minutes, my hands sliding into his hair as he kissed me, his hands sliding round my waist, holding me against him. Every time my body brushed his through his shirt, I caught my breath, and my hands would tighten in his hair, each kiss growing fiercer, wanting him closer and closer.

When we finally broke apart-a good several minutes later-I smiled, noticing that Merrill's cheeks were flushed and his lips slightly swollen-which somehow made them look all the more attractive. I stared up at him, watching the way his eyes caught the light. It had the effect of making them look deeper somehow-at this angle, they reminded me of an ocean of mysteries.

An explosion of static from the radio made me turn and I stared at it worriedly, my eyes narrowing. "You don't think.." A myriad of images involving the aliens taking over the radio waves were pouring through my brain. I ran this theory past Merrill, who, judging by his slight smirk, didn't think this idea likely. I sighed, leaning into his shoulder, my mind drifting back to the radio. "You reckon we'll get any signal at all?"

Merrill shrugged. "Hard to say." He beckoned me back to the wall, and I slid down beside him, my head resting on his shoulder again. I just hoped we'd know something new soon-I didn't fancy spending the entire day in the basement.

"Isabelle?" Merrill's voice was low, and my name seemed to catch in his throat. I frowned, puzzled, as I craned to look at him.

"Yeah?"

Merrill seemed to struggle for a moment. "You OK? After, you know-last night-" He trailed off, eyes watching me, full of concern.

I shrugged. "I'm OK." And I was. It was strange. After all I'd told him last night-stuff I'd never even _thought _about telling anyone before-it was strange to have finally blurted everything out, on the spur of the moment, and yet to just-

Be OK with it.

Merrill was still watching me, and I traced his lips gently with one finger. "Seriously, I'm OK." I stared at him, desperate for him not to worry about me.

Merrill kissed the top of my head-a gesture that made me smile, and leaning against him, let my eyes close temporarily. Merrill bent his head to my ear, his lips moving gently. "I think you're pretty brave."

My heart seemed to skip several beats, and I glanced up at him. "How come?"

Merrill shrugged. "All that stuff-you just deal with it. It's pretty-" He shrugged again, gaze flickering back to mine. "Impressive." He gave me a quick smile, and I dropped my gaze, wanting to hide my own answering look, while struggling to contain the grin I could feel spreading over my face. OK, it was pathetic, but it was a novelty, being commended for the way I'd handled something. It was actually pretty rare, and I wanted to savour it.

Merrill slid his arm around me, holding me closer to him. "Go back to sleep for a bit." The suggestion was quiet, but I thought it might be a good idea to take him up on it-there was nothing much else to do, after all.

I burrowed into his shoulder, letting my eyes close. Images of my parents floated, unbidden, into my brain, and I winced-I didn't dare picture what might have happened-or _be _happening-to them.

Merrill obviously sensed my discomfort. "What's wrong?" His voice was a breath of warmth against my skin.

I shrugged, not even pretending to lie. "My parents." My voice cracked slightly as I spoke, and Merrill's arms tightened around me. There was a short moment of silence.

When he spoke, Merrill's voice was low and careful, as though testing out ground before he walked on it. "Well...maybe, they're OK. I mean, _we _are. We've got to-" He swallowed, and I felt the movement of his throat as he did so. "You've got to believe they're OK."

"That's not much help if they're-" I struggled to say the word, and Merrill's hand gently tipped my chin up to face him. I blinked, struggling to stymie the flow of tears, and failing. One escaped down my cheek, tracking slowly over my skin.

Merrill's finger danced over my jaw, lightly catching the drop on his knuckle. It shimmered there, like a drop of dew, catching the light. "Don't think like that, OK?"

I shrugged. "I can't help it. What if they are-" A small sob broke through my throat, and Merrill shushed me, drawing me closer, his hand playing with my hair. "I'm sorry" I choked out, pulling back to look at him. "I don't usually cry all the time, honest-" Merrill laughed softly, hand cupping my cheek. "Seriously" I tried to argue, my hand landing over his. "It's just-" I glanced down. "I didn't get to say goodbye to them." The words hung in the air for a moment, and Merrill bit his lip, the movement drawing my eyes to his mouth once again.

"What if something happens?" The words were whispered quickly, too quickly for me to take back, and I lowered my gaze, not daring to look at Merrill.

A long moment passed before Merrill replied. "Then we'll deal with it."

I frowned, glancing up at him once again. "We'll?"

Merrill didn't look away from me as he spoke. "I'm not going to leave you, Isabelle." His palm stroked my cheek, and I shivered at the heat of his skin-the feeling of him touching me, my eyes closing, savouring the sensation. "Not unless you want me to."

My heart jumped, beating a violent tattoo against my ribs. "I won't want you to." My voice was a whisper. "I don't want you to leave me." I let my eyes meet his, and had to stifle a gasp. His voice was low, but his eyes blazed blue-green and I was inexplicably reminded of a sea on fire, as I looked at him.

Merrill's hand gently pushed my hair off my face, and I swallowed, every nerve ending in my body suddenly alive, the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention-and not from fear, this time. I stared at him, vague thoughts echoing in my mind; the basement, last night, Morgan, the need to get out...the radio...

But then Merrill softly tilted his head, pressing his lips to mine, and every other thought receded from my mind. I kissed him back, sinking into the sensation-familiar now, and yet still completely new at the same time. His arms round my back held me to him, his lips gentle, soft, coaxing my mouth open, as my hands crept into his hair.

Each kiss was quicker and Merrill's fingers stroked the skin at the back of my neck, eliciting a soft gasp from my throat-a small sound of pleasure as I pulled him back to me, a longing growing with each kiss, wanting him closer...needing him closer...Merrill didn't pull away, and I knew he was feeling exactly the same thing. It was strange; I'd never considered quite how this was; two people wanting exactly the same thing at exactly the same time; and how it felt to know it so implicitly, so incontrovertibly.

It was when Merrill's hand crept to the bottom of my shirt, fingers stroking the skin at my waist, that I gently pulled my head back. "Merrill.." My voice cracked slightly, betraying my desire to stop talking, to let him carry on, to kiss him until I couldn't think anymore. My breath was harsh in my throat and Merrill's lips hovered inches from my own, a torturously close distance.

"What?" His own breathing was ragged, his cheeks warm to the touch, and again, I resisted the urge to pull his mouth back to mine. I swallowed, running my hands over his shoulders, enjoying the way his muscles tensed as I did so.

"We've got to stop now." My voice was gentle, and I felt a small smile playing at my lips. "We've-" I gestured at the three sleeping figures near us-none of whom, mercifully, had woken up.

Merrill nodded, slowly, but a hint of mischief tugged at his mouth, and it was suddenly, very, very hard not to kiss him again. "They're all asleep." He leant into me again, deliberately keeping his lips an inch from mine, and I closed my eyes.

Merrill's whisper was so close I could almost taste the warmth of his mouth on mine, and another shiver passed down my spine. "You want to kiss me again." It wasn't a question.

I leaned forward, and let my lips brush his once more, any will power evaporating, as his mouth moved over mine. His skin was warm, and my arms slid around him, tugging at his shirt despite my reservations, his breath quickening, as he kissed me harder, his body pressed against mine. Merrill pulled back from me, his eyes wild. "Isabelle..."

My hands slid into his hair, and his mouth found mine again, a soft moan in his throat, as his lips explored my mouth. My hand brushed the skin under his shirt, and I felt him jump slightly, his muscles tautening, his mouth fiercer than ever on mine. I tilted my head back, unable to remember why I should make him stop...unable to remember anything except what this felt like...how close he was...how good this felt...unable to think of anything but this...

A soft cry sounded through the basement, and Merrill and I both pulled back at the same moment, both of us gasping for breath. His cheeks were flushed scarlet and both of us glanced around, searching for the source of the noise.

It sounded again and I looked to see Bo rolling over in her sleep. She made another small noise in her throat, her eyelids flickering slightly, before her fist clenched and she sighed, apparently sinking back into slumber.

Just a dream...

I turned back to Merrill, biting my lip. He met my gaze, a sheepish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"If she'd woken up..." My whisper was disbelieving, still stunned at the near miss, at how close we'd come to being faced with a barrage of confused questions, from a very persistent child.

Merrill's lip curled up in a crooked grin. "That's one explanation I'd prefer to leave to Graham."

I burst out laughing, and after a moment, so did Merrill. We both leaned back against the stacks of boxes behind us, my heart still thundering in my chest, Merrill's arm sliding around me.

Our laughter subsiding, I glanced up to find Merrill staring at me. "Isabelle." His voice was husky, and caught in his throat as he said my name.

I stared back at him. "Yeah?"

Merrill didn't look away as he spoke. "Do you remember what you asked me in the barn?"

Barely breathing, I nodded. "Yep."

Merrill's smile was small and sweet, and maybe the tiniest bit shy. "You still-" He cleared his throat slightly. "You still think you'd-like to do-that? I mean-go out-"

I smiled. This was something I wouldn't have anticipated-from what I knew of Merrill so far, he wouldn't have any reason to be shy around girls. I moved closer to him, letting my lips brush his cheek. "Oh, it's short notice. Can I think about it?" I grinned, staring up at him.

Merrill's eyes darkened for a second, though he was quick to hide it with a smile. "Yeah-of course-"

I swatted him on the arm. "I'm _joking, _Merrill."

Merrill smiled for real, this time, his eyes brightening, and I kissed his cheek again, wanting him as near to me as possible. "You're evil" he whispered, and I nodded. "I have my moments."

Merrill's laugh was low and gentle in my ear, as he pulled me closer, pressing a soft kiss to my hair. I sighed, closing my eyes, letting myself drift, enjoying the feel of his arms around me...

There was a crackle of static from the radio above our heads.

Merrill was moving before I could so much as blink, his eyes darting upwards. "What the-"

I scrambled to my feet, grabbing for the radio, Merrill standing beside me. We both leaned in, listening intensely to the sounds.

"That's not just static." I stared at the radio, as though it would somehow pass me a telepathic message explaining what was going on.

Merrill voiced my thoughts for me. "That was words..." His eyes met mine, both of us seeing our own expression on the other's face.

"You don't think..." Another image of aliens taking over the TV stations ran through my head. Merrill stared at me, eyes puzzled. "What?"

The radio crackled in my hand and I turned it upright, twiddling the dial. A voice echoed into the basement. "Seems there's some kind of mass exodus going on..."

"What?" Merrill leaned closer to the radio, turning the volume down slightly, with an anxious glance at Bo, sleeping nearby.

I grabbed his hand, pulling him closer to the shelf, and placed my ear up against the radio, as near as I could possibly get. "Listen.."

There was another crackle of static. I frowned, listening to the faint sounds, raising an eyebrow. "Huh?" My gaze met Merrill's, and he shrugged, apparently just as puzzled as me.

Then the sounds cleared and there came a sound, faint but unmistakeable. Human voices. I leaned away from the radio, wincing at the proximity of the noise.

"Yeah, it seems like they are leaving...nothing is confirmed, at this time, but they do seem to be leaving us.."

"Turn it up" I whispered to Merrill, and with a worried look at Morgan and Bo, he obliged. The voice spoke again, louder now, a questioning tone to the words.

"So, you say that the aliens-after the mass raids last night-they're _leaving?"_

I held my breath. My heart seemed to twist in my chest, as though the simple act of hoping was too much for it-as if it had forgotten how to. I glanced at Merrill, only to see him staring at the radio, his eyes fierce with concentration, as though by simply staring at the object, he could drag the words out a little quicker. His fingers gripped the edge of the shelf, the skin white over his knuckles.

Whoever was speaking cleared their throat. "It would seem so, yes."

I stared at Merrill, hardly daring to breathe-hardly daring to hope...

"So, just to confirm-if anyone is listening-" Another voice, somebody different this time. "The aliens _are _gone?"

There was a short pause, before, once again, "It would seem so, yes."

There was a moment, a moment of stunned silence, in which Merrill's eyes met mine, both of us watching each other, the same question in each other's eyes. Merrill's hand moved over mine, his fingers digging into my skin with unusual ferocity.

The voice spoke again. "So they've gone. The aliens have gone."

A second passed in which Merrill and I just stared at one another.

Then chaos erupted.

Merrill almost leapt into the air, shoving the radio back slightly-I jumped to prevent it from falling onto the floor-shouting something inarticulate. I hurried to shush him, placing my hand over his mouth, shaking my head frantically and pointing to Morgan and Bo, who still lay, blissfully asleep. He nodded, regaining composure, his eyes wild. I hugged him, my face leaning against his chest for a moment, my own relief running through me.

It seemed to be taking a moment to register-I still felt vaguely numb, unreal, as though I couldn't focus properly. They'd gone; the aliens had really gone..We were going to be OK.

We were going to be OK. It still couldn't totally compute in my brain. I stood still for a second, my eyes closed, my thoughts whirling. Everything was going to be OK.

Merrill's arms wrapped around me again and I let myself lean into him, the gesture already familiar. He held me gently, his face buried in my hair. "It's over." He pulled back to look at me. "God, it's over, Isabelle. We're going to be OK."

I nodded. "I know." I couldn't summon up any more words. I contented myself with a quick smile, instead. "I know." My eyes met Merrill's, who was regarding me with a puzzled expression, his forehead creased in a frown.

"You don't look-" He gestured with his hand, apparently unable to think of the words to phrase quite how I didn't look.

"I know." I nodded, turning back to the shelf to pull the radio closer. "It must be-I guess I'm just-" I shrugged, unable to understand why I didn't feel more elated. All I knew was that something tugged at me-some nagging sensation I couldn't ignore.

Merrill stared at me. "What?"

I shook my head. "Nothing." To prove my point, I reached out, pulling the radio closer. It halted, caught on something, and I tugged impatiently. The radio skidded forward, nearly falling at my feet.

Merrill leapt forward, his unerring reflexes allowing him to bar the object's fall to the ground. "Jeez.." He turned to stare at me. "What?"

I was shaking my head, a smile slowly raising to my lips. "They're gone." I shook my head, faintly bewildered. "God, they're really gone. Finally. I mean-" I shook my head. "God, it's just sunk in. They're actually-" I stared at him, the knowledge slowly registering. But weirdly, I didn't feel the overwhelming celebratory joy I expected. Just a slow filtering of relief.

But that nagging sensation was still there.

There was a low moan from the floor, and Merrill and I both spun round. Bo raised her head, her hair tangled, covering her face. Her eyes peered out at us, confused. "Uncle Merrill?" She turned her gaze to me, frowning, evidently half-asleep. "Isabelle?" She sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. "We're still alive, right?"

A weak laugh broke from my chest as I bent down, to brush the strands behind her ears. "Well, we're not dead." I pressed my lips to her forehead, breathing in the warm nearness of her-how real she was. My arms hugged her, holding her to me, as though she might be snatched away any second.

"Isabelle." Bo struggled slightly, leaning away, her lips pursed. "Isabelle, you're hurting me."

My grip loosened, as I forced myself to let go. "Sorry." I stared at her, wanting to tell her the good news, but somehow unable to speak, just wanting to watch her, savour the moment. It was all right. We were going to be all right.

Bo's forehead creased. "Isabelle?" She frowned, those grave little eyes full of concern again. "What's wrong?"

Merrill's voice answered before I could, his hand squeezing my shoulder reassuringly. "Nothing's wrong, Bo. The aliens-" He squatted down, letting his eyes meet hers, apparently unable to contain the grin curving across his lips. "They think they're gone."

Bo took a moment to register this, her eyes blinking, aftersleep confusion clouding her features. "They're gone?"

Merrill nodded, hands on her shoulders. I ruffled her hair, temporarily forgetting how irritating she found it.

Bo didn't pull away, however. I guessed that in a time of importance, hair-ruffling may be allowed. Nor, however, did she jump up and down for joy. "So.." she said, the words slow, measured. Her face creased in thought, a small wrinkle of concern appearing between her eyes. "They're really gone?"

Merrill and I exchanged glances, and I widened my eyes questioningly at him. "Well-" I glanced at Bo, stalling for time. "They said-" I glanced at Merrill again, who shrugged, evidently as clueless as me. "They said they seem to have gone." I stared at her, willing her to believe me.

Bo watched me quietly, her eyes impassive. Her feet scraped along the floor, as her head tipped to the side, an expression of deep thought creeping across her face. "Isabelle?"

I stared at her, my own eyebrows knotting. "Yeah?"

Bo's eyes found mine and didn't look away. "I'm hungry."

She had just received the news that we had survived an alien invasion-against the highest possible odds-that there was a point to planning the tomorrow, and that above all else, we were all going to be OK. And she was thinking about her breakfast.

At least she had her priorities in the right order.

I sighed, pulling her to me in a quick embrace, arms squeezing her gently. "We'll get food soon, Bo." I glanced at Merrill over the top of her head, raising an eyebrow. "If we ever get out of here" I mouthed, wishing there was some way to be certain about the safety situation. I cast a wary glance at the door. If there were aliens out there, I didn't want us to find out the hard way.

Merrill appeared to share my unease. He moved forward, bending down to lift Bo into the air, her arms winding gratefully around his neck. "Isabelle's right, Bo. We'll get something soon." He widened his eyes meaningfully at me, pointing at Bo with one finger. I frowned, giving him a helpless shrug back. I had no idea how we were supposed to make Bo anything resembling a breakfast, when I was pretty sure there was nothing edible down here, and I had no idea whether or not it was safe to open the basement door.

Merrill tilted his head, mouth brushing my ear. "We need to listen to the news." His breath was warm on my neck, and I tried to stop myself shuddering at the sensation, my mind flashing back to those moments just a few minutes ago, with his arms around me...his mouth on mine...

OK, focus, Isabelle. Focus. We're not out of the woods just yet.

I turned back to Merrill, lowering my own voice. "How are we going to stop-" I motioned to Bo's head, not bothering to say anymore. As much as Bo had seen in the last twelve hours or so, I didn't think she really needed to hear any of the unpleasant details that might filter through the broadcast.

Merrill lifted her down, Bo blinking up trustingly. "Bo" he began, worrying at his lip slightly. "Bo, could you be a really big girl and do us a favour?"

Bo nodded slowly, her eyebrows crinkling in a frown. I too, stared at Merrill, wondering what was coming next. What was he expecting we could do to keep her occupied down here? Send her to count the grocery bags in the corner?

Merrill kept his eyes fixed on his niece's. "Could you go and check on Morgan? He's just over there. Don't wake him up-just sit by him and make sure that he's OK. Can you do that?" He kept watching her the entire time he spoke, tipping her chin up with one hand.

Bo nodded gravely. "Yes." With a small nod, she turned solemnly to pad across the basement towards Morgan, who still lay asleep.

I turned to Merrill. "Is he-"

Merrill nodded. "If he wakes up, it will be better if she's with him." I nodded, my eyes darting to Bo-I still didn't feel completely comfortable with her seeing her brother like this, but I supposed there were few other options.

Merrill turned back to the radio, fingers playing with the volume. "Now we've got to listen." The voices rose slightly-enough so that Merrill and I could hear clearly, but that the words would be at the least, indistinguishable to Bo-and Morgan, should he wake.

"...they left, but we still have to deal with the fallout" came a voice from the radio, which sounded vaguely familiar. "There has been a major loss of life..."

I swallowed, teeth digging into my lip to silence any cries. Merrill said nothing but his face, next to mine, was chalk white. "God" he muttered. His hand, on my arm, tightened almost painfully.

I leaned into him, closing my eyes. My lips moved of their own volition. "My parents.." I didn't need to say any more.

Merrill's arms were holding me closer now, his mouth at my ear. "They'll be OK." His words were a hot puff of air against my neck. "They'll be OK."

"How can we know that?" I didn't bother to look at him as I spoke, but I didn't pull away either. I needed him next to me right now. I needed anyone next to me.

Merrill didn't answer, and he didn't need to. I kept my eyes shut, my head buried in his shoulder, as though that would somehow protect me from it, from hearing the news I already dreaded.

The words still trickled into my ears, however hard I tried to shut it out. "The creatures are believed to secrete poison gas, which appears to cause almost immediate paralysis, vomiting, loss of motor control..."

"God." Merrill's voice grated in his throat and I pressed my head further into his shoulder, wishing I could curl up into a ball. "What could be..." His voice trailed off, but I could finish the sentence for myself.

I shrugged, leaning into him, casting a quick glance over at Bo, who seemed to be out of hearing range. She was kneeling beside her brother, her hair brushing his cheeks, as she watched him-obediently not waking him up.

I nudged Merrill. "Do you reckon we should wake Graham up?" I gestured toward where my brother-in-law lay asleep, his head tipped back against a pillar, his knees drawn up into his hands. He looked like a toddler huddled up out of sight, and I stared at him, wondering how someone could look so small.

Merrill had already turned back to the shelf, his whisper a soft breath in my ear. "Let him sleep for a bit." His tone was low and gentle, but his arm around my shoulders tightened and I frowned as my gaze flickered to his face-his jaw was clenched and his eyes, fixed firmly on the radio, were strangely bright, his lips pressed firmly together. His free hand, dangling limply at his side, clenched into a fist. I swallowed, casting a wary glance at his face, but didn't dare say anything.

Instead, I simply sank down onto the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees, Merrill following suit a few seconds later. My head fell onto his shoulder, as I sat still, the words from the radio drifting into my ears, my eyes busy watching Bo, slumped beside her brother, occasionally stroking his cheek worriedly. I bit my lip, the pain a welcome distraction from the whispered words of the announcer. I had to wonder how anyone was even in the studio to broadcast a show.

_What about my parents?_

I squeezed my eyes shut as tightly as possible, but couldn't prevent the hot tear that suddenly scorched its' way down my cheek. I kept as still as I could-mindful of the fact that Bo was only a few feet away-but I felt myself tremble slightly, and Merrill pulled me closer, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead.

_We'll be OK_ I reminded myself silently. _We've got to be OK..._

_We've got to be OK..._

I must have drifted off because the next thing I knew, Merrill was gently moving out from under me-my head had apparently lain on his shoulder while I slept-and I opened my eyes to find him carefully extricating himself.

"Sorry-"

He shook his head, a ghost of his old grin returning to his mouth. "It's fine." He stood up, turning back to the radio. I twisted round on the floor, my eyes dry with sleep, my fists rubbing at the lids almost painfully. "Any more news?"

Merrill shook his head, his gaze riveted on something over my shoulder. Frowning, I followed his stare, to see Graham stirring against the pillar. Apparently, it must be morning.

"Hold on..." Merrill turned back to the radio, eyes narrowing and beckoned me to come nearer. Frowning, and with a quick glance at Bo, I scrambled upright, moving to stand beside the radio, straining my ears to catch the words. The hairs stood up on my arms, and I shivered, rubbing my skin in an attempt to warm myself up. I hadn't realised how cold it was down here.

Some words echoed into the basement, and I stared at the radio, as though I could see the speaker by sheer force of will. "...people think they came here to take over the planet. That's bull. I don't think that."

_What?_

If they hadn't come here to take over...what could they have come here for? I tried to remember all the books I had read about aliens as a child, all the many theories put forward about their reasons for visiting Earth in the first place. Curiosity? Contact?

"My friend and I saw them."

My mouth opened and my hand caught Merrill's arm but he was already turning away, and I followed his gaze to see Graham, his eyes half-opening, blurred with sleep, turning slowly to look at us. I stood still, waiting as his gaze wandered upwards until eventually it landed on Merrill and I.

Merrill's voice was low, each word clipped and precise. "I found a packet of light bulbs." I stared at him, taking in the way his eyes narrowed, his fists clenched at his sides. My gaze moved to his face, and I cautiously touched his hand, my fingers stroking his skin. He didn't look at me, but his eyes stared at Graham, in a strange look, a look full of hurt and disappointment, and weirdly-_rage._

_What?_

But I had more important things to think about. The voice on the radio continued, the tone oddly dull. "They poisoned his family and they dragged them away."

A sudden pang of something seemed to stab into my chest, and I folded my arms, hunching over slightly, struggling to avert my gaze from Graham and Merrill. My thoughts strayed to my own parents.

"Isabelle?" Merrill was watching me, his eyes wide. "You OK?"

I took a deep breath, intending to just nod, but Merrill's eyebrow was already raised disbelievingly. "It's just-" I deflated, indicating the radio vaguely. "Did you hear that?"

For a moment, there was no response and I wondered if maybe I'd imagined the whole "poisoned family" thing. But then Merrill winced, his arm sliding around me, my head pressing into his shoulder. Great. I'd officially become one of those whiney girls who cried on their boyfriends' shoulders. I wasn't sure if I wouldn't have preferred the world to end.

The second I'd thought those words, I bit my lip and offered up a silent apology. I guessed it wasn't exactly the right time for jokes.

"Isabelle-" Merrill's voice trailed off-he knew, like me, there was virtually nothing he could say to make this better. "They'll be all right" he eventually finished helplessly, the extra squeeze round my shoulders doing little to reassure me. "They have to be." The words were a whisper, more to himself than to me.

"They-" I couldn't bring myself to say any more. Instead, I closed my eyes, a wave of despair crashing over me. I buried my head in Merrill's shoulder, my arms fastening around his neck.

Yeah, I was acting like a clingy girl in a horror movie. I _had_ just survived an alien invasion. I deserved some leeway.

Merrill's lips brushed my hair, and I opened my eyes in time to see Graham tactfully averting his gaze. Blood rose to my cheeks, and I ducked my head, strongly aware of the fact we had an audience.

Merrill, apparently thinking along the same lines, straightened up, ostensibly unperturbed, though a quick glance at his face showed that he looked slightly flushed. "We've been up for about an hour. Bo's awake-"

Merrill's information on the state of events inside the basement was interrupted by a voice from the radio further updating us on the current state of the outside world. "Nobody believes it but they didn't come here for our planet. This was a raid, they came here for us-to harvest us."

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly intensely dry. A slow shiver ran down my spine.

The voice sighed, the atrocities apparently too numerous to name. "We're lucky as hell they're leaving here."

I breathed out. I couldn't hear that enough times.

Graham sat up, eyes suddenly alert. "They're leaving?" He watched Merrill and I, face suddenly avid with attention, and I remembered this was the first time he'd heard the news.

"That's what they're saying." Merrill's tone was dull, quiet-he might as well have been reciting from the telephone book. I examined his face with my eyes, mind racing to find a reason for his whole attitude. He'd been fine with me. What did he have against Graham today?

Graham's expression didn't change, but his eyes were sharp, and I knew he'd picked up on Merrill's tone, too. Still, he made no comment. "How long have we been sleeping?"

Merrill focused his gaze on the ground, avoiding his brother's eyes. "Twelve hours or so." His hand found the knob on the radio, and the blast of information faded, as Merrill twisted the switch. Across the basement, a faint noise drew my gaze, and I turned to see Morgan stirring faintly in his sleep. Bo's fingers clutched his arm, her eyes suddenly intense in her attempt to be helpful.

Merrill didn't look at any of us as he spoke. "He said they have poison gas...that they secrete in small amounts." He kept himself turned away, body angled towards the wall, shoulders tensed, defensive. "A lot of people died." His voice was barely a whisper. Cautiously, I placed my hand on his arm and was rewarded when he didn't pull away.

"But they're leaving?" Graham's voice was more insistent now, and I glanced back to see him rubbing his eyes, apparently more awake. I nodded quickly, wondering why the atmosphere was this awkward. We had, after all, just survived an alien invasion.

"They left real fast this morning." Merrill still refused to look at us, and I could feel his muscles, taut under his shirt, as though holding something back. My eyes roamed his face, my mind struggling to find the problem. I glanced between him and Graham cautiously.

Merrill shrugged, glancing down, lashes hiding his eyes. "Like something scared them off. They left some of their wounded behind."

I gave an involuntary shiver. I didn't fancy the idea of running into an injured, pissed-off alien any time soon.

Graham frowned, eyebrows knitting together. "Why are they going?"

I shrugged, my own eyes returning to the radio as though expecting it to answer the question. I'd been wondering that, myself.

Merrill shrugged again, a quick rise and drop of his shoulders. "People must have figured out a way to beat them. Everyone has a weakness, right?" He kept his eyes on the floor, and I frowned, wondering what the problem could be, why he was refusing to look at either of us, why he exhibited so little joy over the news that the creatures were leaving.

I stepped closer to him, ignoring Graham's raised eyebrow for a moment. My lips brushed Merrill's ear. "What's up?"

Merrill's eyes met mine for the briefest of moments, and I stared as he shook his head slowly, his teeth worrying at his lip. I dropped my gaze, my cheeks suddenly warmer. There was no reason to feel bad, I told myself. He just didn't want to talk about it. No reason to feel upset.

None at all.

I kept my gaze lowered, glancing across at Bo quickly. She was knelt beside her brother, eyes wide as she watched him, his lips moving as he slept. I wondered what he was saying in his dreams.

Merrill turned sharply, his body angling away from me, his gaze resting on his older brother. "You didn't think we were going to make it through the night, did you?" The tone was low, quiet, almost conversational-and yet, I shivered, my eyes straying back to Merrill's face, to the tension in his arms.

Graham stared at his younger brother, for a long moment, and then slowly shook his head.

Merrill's mouth opened, but at that moment, Bo's voice cut across the basement. "Isabelle?" The name was low on her lips, and I glanced at her to see her eyes wide, lip tremulous.

With a reluctant glance at Graham and Merrill, I headed over to her, pushing my hair behind my ears. My eyes felt heavy, encrusted with the remnants of sleep, and I wished I could find a shower, a toothbrush, and a soft bed in that order. Sleeping in Merrill's arms might have been kind of sweet, but I preferred a bed to the floor.

A small grin flickered to my lips at_ that_ thought.

Bo watched me, her face tight and drawn. She gestured to Morgan, finger pointing to his pocket. "The monitor." I crouched down beside her, my hand landing on her back, rubbing gently between her shoulder blades. "What's up with the monitor?"

Bo shook her head, eyes fixing me with that weird, years-beyond-four gaze. "It's gone quiet."

I frowned. "What do you mean?" But my words were drowned out by the sound of Merrill's voice, low and fierce, from the other side of the basement.

"Listen. There's things I can take-" He broke off and I imagined him swallowing, struggling to summon the words to continue. I bit my lip, hand tightening on Bo's shoulder. I glanced at her, hoping against hope she couldn't hear, but knowing deep down that I was fooling myself.

Merrill's voice was quiet, but every word was audible. "And a couple of things I can't."

I turned back to Bo quickly, twisting my lips into a smile. "It's OK." My tone was coated with enough sugar to send a diabetic into insulin shock, and I didn't blame Bo for the attempt at a raised eyebrow she gave me. For a four-year-old kid, she could see right through bullshit.

"What does Uncle Merrill mean?" The words were a whisper, and I bit my lip, taking in her bemused expression, as she regarded me quietly, trustingly.

"I-" I struggled desperately to think of what the hell Merrill might mean, my ears catching his next few words.

"And one of them I can't take, is when my older brother-" Merrill inhaled sharply, as though the words were physically painful. "Who's everything I want to be, starts losing faith in things."

Bo stared at me, eyes larger by the minute. "What does he mean?"

I watched her, my own mind grasping for an explanation. "I-" But I had no answers.

I leaned down, sliding my hand into Morgan's pocket, fingers closing around the smooth surface of the baby monitor. Slowly, I lowered it to the floor, the uninterrupted curve of the object almost a shock to my fingers. But even obsessively focusing on the baby monitor couldn't block out the conversation. I longed to cover Bo's ears, but had something-I don't know, call it an inkling-that she wouldn't take kindly to the idea.

So I did the next best thing-distracted her.

"What do you mean, this isn't working?" My voice was making a valiant effort to sound upbeat, smother the layers of tension rapidly building in the room, as palpable as heat. Bo's chubby cheeks were dented with confusion, thumb roaming to her mouth to chew at a nail.

My fingers coaxed her hand away, as I considered reminding Graham and Merrill that Bo could hear every word. But Merrill was already speaking.

"I saw your eyes last night." His voice was a thin thread in the silence of the basement, the words tight, as though they were being extricated from the depths of his throat. "I don't ever want to see your eyes like that again. Okay?" Merrill swallowed, the movement of his throat visible from six feet away. "I'm serious." The words sounded stoic enough, but his fists were clenched, the muscles tight in his arms, and as I watched, his lip shook for a moment, the cords in his neck tense.

Graham's gaze didn't move from Merrill's face. Instead, he simply stayed very still, and neither Merrill nor he looked away from each other for a long moment. The brothers watched each other, the gaze unbreakable, a web of mysteries and tension stretching out between them.

Finally, Graham's head moved in a slow nod. "OK." The word was softer than a mother's touch and seemed to undo some of the tension in Merrill's shoulders. He relaxed slightly, returning his brother's nod with one of his own.

Merrill turned toward Bo and I, as if he'd forgotten we were even there. He exhaled slowly, and looking closely, I realised he was shaking slightly, shoulders vibrating even as he stood, watching us.

"Merrill?" I took a step toward him, holding out a hand cautiously. Merrill hadn't seemed too keen to talk earlier-maybe he wouldn't take kindly to this?

But Merrill headed toward me, unexpectedly wrapping me in a hug. I buried my head in the cloth of his shirt, soaking in the already-familiar sensation of his arms. "You OK?" My voice was small, lost, a small fragment that could be blown away at any moment. But I could hear myself.

Merrill nodded, his eyes closing for a second. "Yeah." The word was a breath into my ear and I shivered, my arms clasping him tighter for a moment. The room seemed to still, the tension abruptly dissipating for a slow second.

I felt a tugging sensation at the bottom of my shirt, and looked down to see Bo standing at my side. Her gaze watched Merrill, taking him in from head to toe, with an uncanny gaze, that I had the distinct feeling missed nothing.

"Why were you and Daddy arguing?" Her voice hitched over the words, but other than that, her tone remained as level as a playing field. I had to admire her composure.

Merrill twisted his lips into a smile that more closely resembled a grimace. "We weren't arguing, Bo. We were-" He glanced around the basement, apparently searching for inspiration. "We were-just discussing something."

Bo's eyebrow arched, a caterpillar with its' own mind. "Didn't seem like discussing."

Merrill flushed scarlet, but Bo had already turned away, maybe dismissing the whole matter as unimportant compared to the rather crucial decision of what the hell we were going to do next.

Graham, however, apparently had something else on his mind. He was moving already, a blur of motion as he crossed the basement, dropping to his knees beside his son. "Morgan-"

I glanced down at him and in spite of myself, had to swallow. Morgan's cheeks were the colour of ash, and his head flopped lifelessly to the side. But I could still hear the hoarse rasp of his breathing, a long pause between every inhale and exhale.

"He's been like that for a while now." Graham straightened up as Merrill came to stand beside him. "He needs his medicine." Merrill's voice faded away, words suddenly almost a breath, and he ducked his head, hands shoved into his pockets. For a second, he looked like a little boy, trying desperately to keep up with the situation. My hand followed his into his pocket, fingers intertwining. He didn't push me away. Instead, he gripped back, his skin warm against mine.

Graham didn't look at us, choosing instead to remain crouched by his son. "Have they said anything about our area?"

Merrill, to my surprise, nodded. "Philadelphia and it's outlying counties are cleared."

I stared at him. "Are they?" I wondered how I'd missed that.

Merrill nodded. "You kind of dozed off." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, before turning back to Graham. "But who knows for sure?"

The words hung in the air, voicing all of our innermost thoughts. My eyes strayed unwillingly to the sealed basement door, our one barrier between the possible danger beyond.

Graham waited a long moment before replying. The words were slow, even, a quiet acceptance. "He's not strong enough."

There was a ringing silence. I swallowed, my heart hammering almost painfully in my chest. Merrill's fingers tightened on mine.

Graham's shoulders tensed, but he went on speaking. "If he had another attack right now-"

"I know." Merrill's head ducked as he spoke, so that only I had a view of his lips, which he was unable to keep still, and his skin, which had paled, his face chalk-white.

I moved closer to him. "But what if-" I didn't have to finish the rest of the sentence. What if, was all we were thinking.

"We'd have to be sure before we opened up that door, Graham." Merrill's voice was stronger now, the colour returning to his cheeks. He shot the door a wary glance, and I followed it with one of my own. I was unable to totally obliterate the image of aliens crouched just on the other side of the wood.

Graham watched his son for a long moment, before suddenly straightening up. "Where's the baby monitor?"

I held it up, nestled in the palm of my hand. It was warmer now, heated by being held so close, but there were no lights showing. There was no buzzing, no unearthly shrieking.

Graham took the monitor from me wordlessly, eyes dropping to examine the device. A tense silence followed, stretching out taut between us, as Graham held the monitor to his ear. One second, two seconds passed.

Nothing.

Graham slowly lowered the monitor and turned to look at Merrill and I. His tone was calm, decided. "That's good enough for me."

"Me too." Merrill's reply was almost instant, and he turned to me, his eyes asking a silent question.

I took another glance at Morgan. He lay, pale and still on the floor. We had no medicine.

What was the risk?

I watched Morgan for another moment, before turning back to Merrill. "Me three."

I turned to the door, eyeing it cautiously. It looked so solid, so impenetrable. It was the one thing that had kept us alive last night.

And now, we were about to willingly tear it down.

Well, open it. But you get my drift.

All three of us stood back, facing the door in a semi-circle. Bo danced nervously at my side, as Graham bent to scoop up her brother, his arms gentle, as though Morgan had shrunk into babyhood. Morgan twitched slightly in his sleep, but otherwise didn't respond, sucked back into his dreams.

Graham's gaze wandered back to the door, and he avoided all of our eyes, as he asked, voice quavering, despite his best attempts to sound nonchalant, "Who's going to go first?"

I knew what Merrill was going to say before he spoke. "I'll check it out." His face was set, lips pressed in a grim line, but standing next to him, I could feel the way his arms shook and I knew he was more nervous than he was letting on.

"No!" I grabbed his arm, my mind flashing back to the night before, watching him disappear up those stairs. I shook my head, my fingers catching his wrist. "What if there's something still up there-

Merrill raised a finger to my lips, his skin brushing mine. "That's why I have to go up."

"Not you-" I tried to argue, stepping closer to him, my hand cupping his chin, fingers dancing across his skin. "It's-it's always you and-" I trailed off, struggling for more words. What did I mean? That I cared less about the others than him? That was how it sounded.

Merrill tipped my chin up to face him, his eyes examining my face. I could see him wince, his expression torn. "Someone's got to check."

"Not you." Graham's voice made me look round, Bo's nails digging painfully into my palm. I slid an arm around her shoulders, as if a simple touch could reassure her.

"I'll go." Graham stared at his younger brother, as though he could force Merrill to agree by sheer force of will. "You went upstairs last night."

Merrill shook his head. "You've got the kids-"

"And you've got-" Graham trailed off, his lips compressing suddenly, as though biting the words back. He indicated me with his head.

Merrill stared at me, his hand touching my shoulder cautiously. "Nobody else can go" he said finally, regret sinking into every word. "And we can't send Isabelle."

My mouth opened, but Graham silenced me with a look. "I promised your mother I'd take care of you" he said firmly, eyes fixing me in place. "And taking care of you does not entail letting you go up there on your own."

I bit my lip, turning to Merrill. "Then let me go with you."

Graham sighed, glancing away, shifting Morgan's weight where he stood. Morgan's arm flopped limply at his side.

Merrill shook his head. "No way. It's too-"

"I'll have you there." I stared up at him, silently begging him to agree. "Please, Merrill." Dimly, I tried to ignore the infuriating knowledge that I was pleading with the guy. "Merrill, I can't let you go on your own, I can't-"

Merrill shook his head, his eyes suddenly alight. "No way. It's too dangerous."

I stared up at him. "You wouldn't let anything happen. And I can take care of myself." I glared at him, fighting the urge to pound my hands against his chest like some wuss in a horror movie. "I'm not a kid, Merrill."

Graham raised his shoulders in a shrug. "I can't stop her from going upstairs, Merrill. Neither can you."

I narrowed my eyes. "I'm as capable as you are." My hand crept to his, my fingers curling over his skin. "You wouldn't let me go on my own."

Merrill closed his eyes, teeth nibbling at his lip. "If something's still up there-"

I raised an eyebrow. "Then you're in just as much danger as I am."

Merrill watched me for a moment, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. "I'm going first."

I swallowed, but nodded. It was the best I was going to get.

Merrill yanked at the hammer, still wedged under the door knob, from our frantic barricade attempts the previous night. After a few seconds of pulling, it gave way, and with barely a moment's hesitation, Merrill's hand twisted the doorknob, the door slowly creaking open, a square of light in the dank darkness of the basement.

Merrill glanced back at me. "Are you sure about this?" There was a faint, pleading note in his voice.

I sighed. "I'm coming, Merrill." I detached Bo from my arm, where she had fastened her fingers onto my wrist, watching me with large, frightened eyes. I ruffled her hair, struggling to inject the appropriate amount of enthusiasm into my voice. "It's OK. We'll be fine." Leaving aside the possibility of us being horribly mauled by an evil alien with a grudge, that statement could well be accurate.

Bo stepped back, burying herself behind her father's legs-a habit she'd held since the age of two. I tried to shoot her a smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace.

Slowly, I turned back to the door. Merrill stood, waiting at the bottom of the steps.

I stepped out through the doorway, my foot sliding on the ground, as though it, too, was unwilling to move forward. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself onwards until I reached the bottom of the steps behind Merrill.

"You OK?" Merrill watched me, eyes glazed with worry, shooting an anxious glance up the stairs, as though expecting an alien to be looming over us.

I nodded fast. "I'm fine. Let's just keep moving."

Slowly, Merrill moved up the steps, feet lighter than I would have expected, eyes casting about, on a constant search for movement. I followed him, struggling to lighten my tread as much as possible, my own ear straining for sound. Every noise became a threat; the whisper of a summer breeze-it was a shock to remember it was still summer-could be the hiss of an indrawn breath; the creak of a house settling around us, could be the pressure of a creature's weight.

Merrill paused at the top of the stairs, his silhouette clearly visible against the light. The long wooden structure-I was never precisely sure what the things were called-with carved shapes of the moon and stars allowed long beams to shine through, brushing the floor with their glow. I squinted at the sudden brightness, after hours of being accustomed to the basement's dull darkness.

I stood behind him, my heart suddenly audible in my chest, my legs less stable than they had been just a few moments earlier. Merrill watched me, his hand reaching out to steady my arm. "You don't have to come any further, you know."

"I want to." No way was I watching Merrill disappear into the depths of a house that could contain freaking aliens. It wasn't happening.

Merrill gave me a long look, before slowly moving off round the corner. I wished we'd thought to bring weapons up with us. That would at least, have offered some protection.

I cast a look back at the group of three white, upturned faces staring up at us from the bottom of the stairs, before slowly stepping back, out of their range of vision, as I turned to survey my surroundings.

At first glance, strangely enough, the rooms seemed undisturbed, but after a couple of seconds of confused blinking, I saw the shattered glass, lying in puddles of sharp danger beneath the near-empty window panes, the wood buckled and broken. The remnants of the previous night's meal lay on the table, some tipped in a tumult of chaos over the table cloth. A few chairs lay overturned, fallen knights yielding to adversaries.

Merrill muttered something under his breath I was pretty sure he wouldn't have said in front of either Morgan or Bo, but his shoulders relaxed-there at least, didn't seem to be any hostile intruders lurking about. Indeed, the place seemed eerily silent, a tautness of quiet that seemed about to break. I glanced around, my eyes darting for any sign of movement.

Merrill was already heading towards the family room, before I'd finished taking in the kitchen. He turned, beckoning to me. I resisted the urge to run to his side-I wasn't a little dog.

Merrill sighed, his eyes widening pleadingly. "Just stay near me." His skin was pale, the shadows under his eyes more prominent, and I knew he was asking as much for himself as for me.

I followed him, my eyes straying to the family room over his shoulder. Again, apart from the shattered windows, and dangling boards of wood, the place looked remarkably undisturbed. Maybe the speakers on the radio had been right-whatever the aliens had been interested in, it undoubtedly hadn't been theft of materials or the planet.

A shiver crept down my back. Somehow, I didn't particularly favour the idea of a raid for human flesh.

Merrill swallowed, his eyes taking in the quiet desolation. He spun round, shoulders suddenly tense. "What was that?"

I froze, my own head whirling round, eyes scanning the area behind me. My heart seemed to leap into my throat, and I fought down a scream.

Nothing moved. Nothing happened.

After a very, very long moment, I took a step back, towards Merrill, my heart still pounding. I turned to face him, his face reflecting the confusion that must have been spread all over mine.

"What did you hear?" My voice was a whisper, falling in amongst the quiet of the room and the bated breath of the house's inhabitants. I stepped closer to Merrill, wanting to be as near him as possible, reaching out to trace the material of his shirt in between my fingers.

Merrill shook his head. "Just-" The words crumbled into silence, as he pulled me close to him, eyes still sharp, warily watching the area around us. "Thought I heard something. Footsteps or something."

I swallowed, my lips suddenly dry. "Maybe it was just imagination."

Merrill nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "Maybe."

We stood still for a long moment, ears on edge, straining to hear anything-any movement, any clue that we were not alone.

Nothing.

Merrill glanced down at me. "Reckon we're safe?"

I held my breath for a moment, listening. Was that something? Some whisper of movement-some dragging motion across a floorboard-

Nothing.

I shook my head. It was just imagination. Of course it was. "As safe as we're going to get."

Merrill watched me for a moment. "OK." His arm sliding around my shoulders, we moved back to the top of the basement stairs.

Graham stood at the bottom, Morgan hanging limply, a dead weight in his arms. Bo clung to his side, her blue eyes clear even from this distance. Graham looked up at Merrill and I, a silent question in his eyes. I squinted-for the first time, I noticed wrinkles forming at his jawline, his skin more tired than it used to be, and I realised with a jolt that he looked older.

Merrill watched his brother for a long moment, before he took a deep breath and nodded.

I stepped back as Graham slowly mounted the steps, hoisting Morgan further into his arms as he did so, his son's head lolling against his shoulder. I was reminded of when Morgan was a baby and I'd walk into the house to see Graham gently moving round the living room, arms tender round his tiny son, murmuring soothing sounds as he rocked him to sleep, as though he could protect him from the world.

I guessed that couldn't go on forever.

Bo trotted up beside them, the material of her father's jeans clenched between her chubby little fists. She made a beeline for me, stopping to stare into my eyes for a moment.

"We need his medicine, too." Graham stopped, turning toward the cabinets, but Merrill was already moving, pulling at the cupboard doors. "We need to-"

There was a crackle of static.

All of us jumped and Bo let out a small cry. We stood, frozen, my mind filling with aliens returning and a false respite and-

A low jabber of voices-a frenzied muttering-

Graham was the first to put the pieces together. "It's the television." He breathed a sigh of relief, sagging against the cabinets for a moment, Morgan still slumped against his shoulders.

There was a moment of silence, quickly shattered by the jagged pieces of laughter, slicing through the air. We all dissolved into it for a moment-our one source of protection against the situation, and all we still had to discover.

Graham twisted toward the family room, Morgan's head brushing his shoulder. Merrill turned back to the cabinet, hands grabbing at the bottles, a new urgency to the movements. "Get the syringe as well." Graham called back, his figure already receding from sight. "We may need to give him an epinephrine shot."

I followed them, wanting to keep Morgan in my line of vision. It was bizarre-even though I knew he was all right, I kept seeing him as I had the night before, gasping and choking on the floor, his face pale, and I had to suppress a shiver that passed down my spine.

The destruction of the windows was only too obvious as we moved into the family room, but none of us were looking at the broken glass. Graham was only concerned with placing Morgan gently on the couch, smoothing his hair as he did so. He stared at his son, eyes faraway, someplace else. I didn't like to ask where.

Bo headed for the hallway, a small figure in her blue fairy dress-it seemed to have remained relatively intact throughout the events of the night. I started after her, but on a sudden impulse, turned back to face Morgan, brushing the hair back behind my ears.

"You gave us a scare last night." I wasn't even sure he was conscious, but as I spoke, his eyelids flickered and I smiled, relief coursing through me like heat.

Morgan nodded vaguely, his eyes slowly coming into focus. "We're-we're not in the basem-"

I shook my head. "It's safe again, now." I brushed the hair off my nephew's face, shuddering at the thought of that hand sliding over his lips the previous night. "We made it." A small smile broke across my own lips, as I considered what that meant. We'd made it-maybe others had, too. We were OK.

I fought the sudden urge to jump up and down. We were OK. _We were OK._

Twelve hours previously, I'd been imagining us in coffins. Or whatever the alien equivalent was.

Morgan's head tilted back and his lips moved. I rested my hand against his mouth. "Don't." My voice was a whisper, and it was only then that I realised my own eyes were welling with something. "You need to rest."

Graham knelt down beside me, his hand stroking Morgan's arm and my breath caught in my throat at the look on his face. He stared at his son, lip caught between his teeth. If I ever needed proof of all those stories of parents who find the strength to lift a full-sized car off their children, I sure as hell had it now.

"Bo?" I turned, eyes casting about the room for the sight of a small girl in a blue dress. "Bo?" My voice rose an octave, terror constricting the words.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway and I braced myself. But then she appeared in the doorway, a grin splitting her small face in two, little dimples denting her cheeks, and I felt myself go limp, my mind clearing of images of her vanishing, or caught in the grasp of an evil extraterrestrial.

Bo stared at her father, lips pursed. "They're doing this on TV." She clenched her fists and swung her hips back and forth, eyes closed.

I stared at her. So, they were apparently doing something closely resembling the mating dance of a desperate chipmunk?

Graham, however, had caught on more quickly. "They're dancing?"

Bo nodded. "Yeah, like this." She repeated the movements-apparently, the dancing was the most important part of this whole conversation.

Morgan's lips twitched in a thin smile as he watched his sister and Graham looked at him, eyes suddenly bright with attention. "You want to see it?"

Morgan nodded. Graham rubbed his shoulder, hand clenching for a moment. "Then I'll bring the TV in here." With a last squeeze of his son's shoulder, Graham swung himself off the couch, heading to his daughter, whose fists were still clenched at her sides, as though longing to repeat the dance moves.

"I'll go see how Merrill's doing-" My voice trailed off, as I headed to the kitchen, with a last cautious glance at Morgan over my shoulder. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow, but at least he was breathing. I frowned, biting my lip. "I'll be right back, OK?" Bo, standing in the doorway, nodded. She stood stock still, her eyes on her brother, as though afraid that if she took them off him, he'd be snatched away.

I turned back to the kitchen, to see Merrill standing at the cabinet, hands loaded with medication, syringes poking through the gaps between his fingers. I winced-the next few minutes would be fun for Morgan.

"Let me take some of them-" I reached out, coaxing Merrill's fingers open, allowing me to take one of the injections. I squinted at the name on the syringe-epinephrine. The one Graham had mentioned. I hoped the salbutemol inhalers would be enough.

Merrill shrugged. "Just as long as we get them into him, fast" he muttered, pace quickening as he moved toward the family room. Dimly, in the distance, I heard the noise from the TV set die-Graham must have pulled the plug out.

Looking up, I noticed Merrill watching me, eyes suddenly soft, and I felt the blood rise to my cheeks. "What?" My own voice was a whisper, as my fingers brushed his hand.

"Nothing." Merrill's voice caught in his throat, and he swallowed, coughing slightly, cheeks endearingly flushed. "Just-we made it." A small smile tugged at the edges of his mouth, a grin he couldn't seem to wipe off. "We-"

I was already hugging him by that point. I had to-looking back, maybe it wasn't the smartest move, but I just wanted to hug him. In my defence, we had just survived a night of alien attacks-I was a little overwhelmed.

Merrill's arms wrapped around me, holding me to him for a moment, and I closed my eyes, breathing the scent of him in. Vaguely, I was aware of the squeak of the wheels of the TV table-Graham must be wheeling it into the family room.

I drew back. "We need to give Morgan his-"

I stopped. From where we were standing, I had a good view of the family room doorway. I could see Graham kneeling in front of the television. Kneeling very still. His eyes wide. Jaw rigid.

Uh-oh.

Merrill noticed my gaze. "What?" He turned, eyes following the direction of my look, jaw suddenly tense, shoulders tight in his shirt.

Graham was slowly straightening up, body twisting as he turned to face something I couldn't see. Bo, in the doorway from the hallway to the family room, was ramrod still, eyes wide. She didn't move. It would have been far easier if she'd screamed. But she didn't. She didn't make any sound at all.

My heart quickened, my breath suddenly tight in my throat.

Merrill stared into the family room. "What the hell-" My hand caught his sleeve, as I followed him to the doorway, nausea suddenly twisting at my stomach. The cuts on my shoulder throbbed painfully, almost as a reminder of what these things could do.

What were they all staring at?

Then we reached the doorway, and I saw it. I saw it.

Merrill dropped the syringes. They fell to the floor, like stunned soldiers, the sight before them too bizarre to be believed.

It stood in the middle of the room, its' back hunched slightly, its' arms bent around some burden I couldn't make out properly. It stared at us, gaze moving fast from one to the other, humanoid in shape, but dark green-grey all over-at least, I presumed it was. For some reason, it was strangely difficult to tell.

But it's eyes-I shivered. There was no way to misread the glare that it levelled at all of us. The eyes glittered, black with malevolence. The arms tightened around it's burden, which I still couldn't see clearly.

That's when my eyes shot to the couch. That's when I saw the cushions, scattered and empty, sprawled on the sofa, as though they'd been flung down and forgotten about. That's when I saw the head flopping back in the alien's arms, the face a deathly grey-white, eyes bulging against the grasp.

That's when I realised what the alien was holding.

My breath stilled in my throat as I took a step forward. "Morgan-" The word choked off into a strangled gasp as the alien turned its' glare on me, its' eyes narrowed. I stared at it, my own head shaking slightly in a futile denial.

Morgan lay in its' arms-strange- in anything else, it might have looked like a caress, a gentle touch. But here, there was no other way to interpret it except as what it was; an abduction.

His face was pale and his eyes were closed; I wondered for a moment if he'd fainted-maybe in these circumstances, that would be the best thing. The alien hovered, almost uncertainly, its' gaze on Morgan's face.

I took a step forward. I didn't know what I was going to do short of knocking the thing out, but I had to do something. There was no way I was just going to stand here and watch it poison him.

There was a movement at my side, and I turned to see Merrill, apparently thinking along the same lines as me. He'd stepped forward, fist clenched, already approaching the alien. Again, God knows how we were going to battle a poisonous extraterrestrial, but hopefully somebody would think of something because God knows we needed something.

Graham's voice cut through the air, a swift hiss of a barrier. "Merrill. Isabelle. Wait."

My jaw dropped as I turned to stare at him.

_Wait? _Had he seriously just said _wait? _That thing was standing there, holding his son in its' arms, harbouring some kind of poison that could kill him any second, and he seriously expected us to _wait?_

I stared at him, my mouth already forming a protest. But Graham, still watching the alien, gave me a small, almost imperceptible shake of the head. He watched the creature intently, his eyes focused on the hand.

I turned my gaze to the alien. My eyes fell to its wrist, where a long, thin spike seemed to be protruding. I stared at it-the thing looked like a knife, a blade which could slit skin as easily as butter.

It took me a moment to realise the most shocking thing about the creature-that its' fingers were not the same colour as the rest of its' body. Instead, even as I watched, they changed, taking on the same checked background as Morgan's shirt, down to the detail of the last line and stripe.

_Camouflage _whispered a memory. Apparently, the news reporters hadn't been exaggerating.

The creature looked up suddenly, and I tensed, my body readying to spring if it took a step toward us. It stood, however, eyes glaring malevolently across the room, as though the sheer force of its' gaze could burn us.

It's eyes locked with Graham's and I blinked. The way it watched him, so intently...almost as if it recognized him. The eyes darkened, and I swallowed, my eyes on Morgan.

Its' lips moved and something cold seemed to creep into my chest as I heard it; that strange, inhuman, clicking that had echoed in my thoughts for the previous few days. It watched us, its' mouth moving, the sounds increasing in intensity, as though it was trying to communicate something. I guessed it wasn't trying to say good morning.

To my left, Graham had gone completely still. His eyes were fixed on the creature's.

I turned to him. "Graham." My voice was choked, harsh in my throat. Graham shook his head, cutting me off mid-speech. I stared at him, eyes wide. What the hell was he waiting for?

All of us stood still. Bo was frozen in the doorway, eyes fixed on the alien. I wanted to run over to her, cover her eyes, but I dreaded what the alien would do to Morgan if I moved. Bile rose in my throat, and I shivered violently, the temperature in the room seeming to drop a few degrees despite the bright sunlight outside.

The alien's eyes flickered over all of us, lingering for a moment on me, and I froze, my dream from last night lapping at the edges of my memory.

_Morgan is lying on the ground, his eyes closed, skin stretched pale. His mouth is parted, lips greying at the edges, and someone-Graham?-clutches him close. The grass is hard through my jeans and Bo presses into me as I stare at him, his little head tilted back, mouth open in a fruitless gasp for breath. The sunlight strikes down overhead, disconcertingly bright._

_Merrill's hand is on Morgan's chest, feeling for a pulse at his throat and I hear Graham's voice, though I can't make out the words-as though he is standing on the other side of a window from me. All I can see is Morgan; pale little Morgan, skin white, eyes closed, chest terrifyingly still. _

_I whisper his name but nothing happens._

Only a dream...only a dream...My mind struggled to convince itself.

_In my dream, my sister stands in front of me. Her long white dress swirls around her-she's never worn a dress like that in all the years I've been alive-and my mind struggles to grasp whether this is a dream or a memory. Her eyes are soft, dark in the light, and I take a step toward her._

_"What are you doing?" My voice comes out strange, almost foreign, echoing between us. I reach out to touch her arm, but she draws back._

_"It's going to be OK." Her voice is low, a whispered secret between us, and she gives me that small smile again. That smile she gave me whenever I did well, whenever I managed to succeed. That smile that tells me everything's going to be all right._

_The air crackles with something, some hidden electricity, as though the place is connected to wires and cables. I stare at my sister, willing her to tell me what's going on, but for some reason, the words won't rise to my lips._

_"Go back." Her voice is a whisper. "It's going to be OK. All of it."_

_I don't know where this place is, or why I'm here, but I step closer to her, anyway. "What's-where-" The words are choked in my throat, and I bite my lip, blood rising to the surface of my skin._

_Her head shakes slowly back and forth. "You need to go back. They need you."_

_"What do you mean, go back?" The words are high, fraught, and break through my lips like a ringing bell._

_My sister smiles. "Close your eyes."_

_I falter for a moment, but then she looks at me, and suddenly she's not in a white dress any more-she's just in her outfit, the black coat she always wears, her everyday clothes-looking the same way she did the last time I saw her, when I promised to see her next weekend._

_A hot tear rises at the corner of my eyes, and I swallow. "Colleen-"_

_She shakes her head slowly. "Go back. You need them." She leans closer to me, and for a moment, her lips brush my cheek. "There's a reason for it. Remember that." The words are a whisper against my skin. "Graham'll tell him to do it. To swing away."_

_"A reason?" I shake my head, struggling to clear it. " What do you mean, swing away? What do you mean? What reason?" There's no answer and my eyes fall open._

_Colleen is gone, the space where she stood bare and empty. The air seems to be moving around me, a sudden change in pace._

_"What reason?" But there is no one left to answer my question and suddenly the area is flickering around me, as a blackness creeps in, the previous throbbing light slowly obliterated by the darkness._

"Swing away, Merrill."

Graham's voice brought me back to the present, his words low, almost guttural. I blinked, turning to Merrill, who didn't seem to have heard.

Graham was watching his son who still lay in the alien's arms, head dropping under its' own weight. "Merrill." He did not look at us as he spoke. "Swing away."

I stared at him, my heart seeming to leap in my chest. The words held the recognition of an old friend. _There's a reason for it..._

But how could that be-

Merrill moved faster than I would have thought possible. He moved toward the wall, his arms stretching up-my heart leapt-to the baseball bat. I stared at it, something clicking suddenly in my brain, an almost audible realisation.

The baseball bat. Why hadn't I noticed it before? I remembered Graham mentioning something about it being on the wall, but understandably, the previous few days I hadn't really had time to admire the change in furniture.

Something else popped into my head-Colleen, saying _"Merrill always swings away...no matter what the coaches or the leaders say, he'll just swing that thing as hard as he can...like it's not even him controlling it." _Lionel Pritchard's voice echoed in my ears from two days ago. _"He'd just whup that bat through the air as hard as he could...Looked like a lumberjack chopping down a tree."_ And my dream-Colleen saying- _There's a reason...a reason for all of it.._

The alien turned, its' eyes narrowing as it watched Merrill, and I couldn't help but wonder why it hadn't made its' move earlier. I mean, what was it planning to do? Just stand there, and hold Morgan? These aliens needed to reconsider their strategy.

The alien's gaze dropped back to Morgan, and every inch of a smile was wiped off my face. _Morgan..._

Beside me, Merrill was pulling the baseball bat down. His arms flexed reflexively as he clutched the bat, fingers fastened firmly around the end of the handle. My mouth opened as my gaze flickered back to the alien. "Merrill-"

The alien's wrist hovered over Morgan's lips, and something sprayed into the air-some mist, a vapour-I squinted, unable to see clearly for a moment. All I could make out was that it came from the long spike extending from the creature's wrist.

That was when my blood ran cold.

I stood still for a moment, staring at them, the newscaster's voice echoing in my ears-_poisonous gas...secrete in small amounts...loss of motor control...death.._

_Death._

My heart seemed to stop.

There was barely a second of silence and then several things happened simultaneously.

A long scream split the air, a drawn-out shriek of terror, and my head swivelled to see that the sound originated from Bo. She was standing still, in the doorway, eyes frozen wide in horror, mouth open in a circle of terror. The alien, too, turned toward her, its' eyes narrowing and I could make out an image appearing on its' back-the image of a little girl shrieking-

I watched as the image of Bo screaming rose to the surface of the alien's skin, like some sort of ghastly portrait.

That's when I stepped forward, my heart racing. I had no clear idea of what I was going to do, but I couldn't just stand there. I couldn't. I took a step towards the alien, heart hammering in my chest. For a brief moment, the room wavered around me, and I wondered if I might faint.

That's when Merrill swung the bat.

I ducked-the swing narrowly missed my head-as the bat flew around, almost wickedly fast. I felt the rush of air graze my cheek as it passed, and a second later, heard the dull thud of contact. Merrill had apparently struck his target.

I straightened up just in time to see Morgan slip from the alien's arms. He dropped down, slamming into the floor with a hard thud that echoed throughout the room, and I winced involuntarily. The alien was turned away, its arm raised in front of its' face in defence, but it was still upright, and I knew it would be a matter of moments before it turned to Morgan again.

Graham and I moved at the same time, both of us heading for Morgan, who lay, crumpled on the floor. He wasn't moving, and my heart stilled for a moment, but then I saw his lips purse slightly and felt a rush of relief-he was still breathing, at least. That was something.

But who knew how much of the poison had gone into his lungs?

Graham's arms were already around his son, holding him closer. The alien loomed over us, its' eyes on Morgan's face. It's arm stretched over him, as though longing to repeat the spraying.

I kicked out at its' ankle. Yeah, yeah, I knew it was an advanced extraterrestrial being and all that, but if the thing was floored by pantry doors and a baseball bat, I reckoned my foot at least had a chance.

The alien's gaze turned to me, and its' eyes narrowed. I stared at it, taking it in. It was a strange sensation-I mean, this thing could kill me, but at the same time, it was weird to think that this was the creature I'd spent so much of my childhood reading about. And now there was one of them right in front of me.

OK, one of them who was trying to murder me, but the principle remained the same.

I glared back at it. "Don't even try." I gave it another kick, and it staggered backwards. I raised an eyebrow, the kick giving me some vague stab of satisfaction.

A stab of satisfaction that vanished the second it turned back toward me. Turned back toward me with its' wrist raised, its' eyes glimmering malevolently. Graham grabbed my arm, but he could only afford one hand-the rest of him sagged under supporting Morgan's weight. I dragged myself backward, as far away from the creature as possible.

"Isabelle, come _on!"_ Graham pulled at my shoulder, half-dragging me upright, but at that moment, Morgan slipped forward and his father's grip tightened, his left hand automatically letting go of my shoulder to slip under Morgan's back. I staggered, off-balance, as another hand clamped around my wrist. A hand that felt distinctly inhuman.

I glanced down in time to see the alien's claws tighten, digging into my skin. I swallowed, a small cry catching in my throat, my legs kicking out at the thing as hard as possible. "Get off-"

The thing's grasp tightened painfully, the other hand reaching up, spike extending- I kicked at it as hard as possible, but this time, my foot failed to make contact. I pulled away, heard Graham shouting my name, was vaguely aware of Bo's voice, raised in a shriek-

And then something thudded into the alien's side, and its' grip suddenly loosened. I tore my wrist back, twisting my body away from the thing. I glanced down at the skin, and blinked-there was a long stream of blood running down my wrist.

"Isabelle!" Merrill was standing in front of me, the bat clutched firmly in his hand, his arm still shaking from the blow that had sent the alien down. His eyes, however, darkened at the sight of the blood on my wrist. "God, Isabelle-" His hand grabbed my other arm, pulling me close to him, body angled in front of mine protectively.

"It's fine, I-" I didn't have time to finish. The alien was already turning back toward Merrill, its' eyes darker now, glare focused on the back of his head. I pulled at his wrist. "Merrill, be careful!"

Merrill spun round, and, without hesitation, swung the bat again. This time, it flew into the alien's side, and I watched as the creature staggered, falling backwards. It collided with the sideboard, and I winced-that would be one expensive repair if anything was damaged. A glass of water tipped over, and I watched as the liquid ran over the top of the sideboard, trickling over the edge, drops touching the alien's shoulder.

The alien let out a harsh cry, and pulled away, but not quickly enough-the water had splashed onto the creature's body, and even as we stared, the patch of skin blanched, a puddle of red spreading across the green like blood.

It was burning. And all because of-

Water.

For a moment, I couldn't believe it. Water? That was what they were afraid of, water?

So I had just spent an entire night in the basement, cowering in fear, terrified that these creatures would rip my head off, when all the time, I could have just killed one by _spitting_ at it?

That was when I noticed that the alien was getting back to its' feet (though it didn't seem to be in great shape-if an alien could wince, this one was.) But, despite the creature's apparent recovery, Merrill wasn't moving. Instead, he remained still, his baseball bat clutched in hand, his eyes moving slowly around the room. Frowning, I followed his gaze, and my own lips slowly stretched into a grin.

On the sideboard, against which the alien had fallen, stood six almost full glasses of water.

And on the small lamp table behind the door, stood three half-full glasses of water.

And on the small coffee table beside the couch, there were four glasses, full of varying amounts of-?

You guessed it.

Water.

I felt my lips curve into another slow smile as I looked at the alien, which glared back at us.

This was going to be sweet.

Glancing behind me, I noticed Graham, who was still huddling, crouched, with Morgan's limp body in his arms. Bo stood to the side, her hands clasped in front of her. Her eyes were huge, in her little face, and as her gaze met mine, I got the distinct feeling that deep inside, she was saying "See? _This _is what's been going on!" Typical Bo-everyone always underestimating her.

Graham stared at his daughter for a long moment, a thousand unspoken words in the gaze, and then, seeming to come to a decision, stood up, lifting Morgan with him. Merrill glanced back over his shoulder. "Go on. Take them outside-"

Graham, Morgan and Bo moved to the doorway, as I stepped back, so that I was standing beside Merrill. I couldn't work out why the alien hadn't made another move yet. It stood still, glaring at us-maybe it had figured out the same thing as me-that it was outnumbered, in a room full of a potentially toxic substance.

Though, seriously, water?

Still, I supposed it was better than nothing. And now, we knew how the people in the Middle East had figured out a way to beat them. I guessed the moment they started cowering at the sight of the nearest jug of water, it was kind of a clue.

Merrill didn't look at me as he spoke. "Go on, Isabelle."

My throat was dry, but I swallowed. "No. I'm staying here."

Merrill rolled his eyes. "Isabelle, just-"

I placed my hand over his on the bat. "I'm not leaving you on your own." I stared at him. "You wouldn't leave me alone with it."

The alien made a soft, hissing sound, and I guessed that it was recovering from the shock of the water. Or maybe it just didn't like being talked about as though it wasn't here.

Merrill stared at me. "Isabelle-" His voice trembled for a minute, and I shook my head quietly. "Trust me."

Merrill was shaking his head, but at that point, the alien moved toward us, and he swung his bat out, holding it in front of him like a gun, keeping the creature back.

I turned to Bo and Graham, who stood just behind me, my heart suddenly thunderously loud in my ears. "Go on!" They couldn't be in here-they couldn't-it was way too dangerous. I swallowed, suddenly aware of how Merrill felt, about me being here. But I couldn't leave him on his own.

Graham turned to the door, Morgan's head dangling from his arm, Bo trotting anxiously at his side. The little boy's skin was pale, illuminated in the sunlight, and as Graham carried him out of the room, I realised vaguely that I could see every one of the freckles on his cheeks.

I turned back to the alien, my heart thundering. I couldn't think about Morgan right now. This was the only way to keep him safe.

The alien and Merrill were circling each other now, Merrill with his bat held out in front of him, his hands trembling from the tightness of his grip. I swallowed, edging toward it. "Try and hit it toward the glasses-" To be honest, I still had no idea how we were going to kill the thing. What if it could heal itself or something?

The alien's hand moved suddenly toward Merrill, it's spike extended. His bat moved fast, smashing into the nearest glass of water, which promptly shattered. The alien cried out, clutching its' wrist, its' eyes narrowing in pain. The red was spreading again, this time over its' skin. If it hadn't been for the fact that it had just tried to murder my nephew, I'd have almost felt sorry for the thing.

The alien stepped toward us again, and I caught sight of a small, brown head at the window. Bo's worried face peered through the glass, bobbing slightly as she stared at us, obviously balancing on her tiptoes. I watched her for a moment, wishing there was some way to see how Morgan was.

The alien was quick to capitalise on my momentary distraction. It stepped forward, moving swiftly toward me, and Merrill moved at once, bat extended. But I was already glaring back at it. Bending down, I picked up a glass of water, my fingers shaking slightly, as they closed round the smooth glass.

"Try it" I muttered, the water almost slipping out of my grasp. "Just try it. Come on-" I was balancing on the balls of my feet now, waiting for it to come nearer. "Come on, if you want to-"

The thing lunged, and I leapt back, throwing the glass out in front of me. The glass crashed to the floor, shattering into several shards, but the throw had the desired effect-the water splashed down the alien's skin, covering what I guessed counted as its' stomach, and the creature let out a strangled howl. It stumbled once again, falling against the television table this time, and the TV fell to the floor with a loud crash. I guessed that was goodbye to Graham's fear of the kids watching too much television.

The alien groaned slightly, murmuring something in a strange, muttered dialect. I couldn't help but wince, despite the slow pulse of satisfaction.

Merrill stepped over to me, bat held out straight, angling his body so that he leaned in front of me. "Isabelle, go-"

I shook my head. "You wouldn't leave me."

Merrill shook his head, exasperated, but the creature was already moving again. I had to give it credit-it was resilient. It was a lot of things but wimpish wasn't one of them.

Aside from the whole being afraid of water thing, that was.

But I didn't have much time to consider that point. The alien was moving round the table now, its' body stooped slightly, apparently in pain-I wondered how much longer it would actually last.

Merrill moved toward it, his eyes narrowed. I followed him, noticing how he extended the bat, keeping it levelled at the alien's chest, backing it slowly up against the sideboard. I smiled slowly, and the creature's gaze met mine.

_You deserve this._

My fists clenched at my sides, and my gaze landed behind the creature, finding the sideboard itself. On the top, stood three full glasses of water-the same ones that I'd been compulsively rearranging for the last few days. They now stood in an odd triangle shape, the water shimmering oddly as it caught the light.

But-I stared at them for a moment-they weren't like that just because I'd rearranged them. They were like that because I'd refused to rearrange them-because my brain had been shrieking at me to put them in a straight line, and I'd started to but then refused. In fact, when I looked around the room at the glasses-I stared about, heart pounding almost painfully-they were all like that-because of the way I'd been arranging them. Or refusing to arrange them-when I'd been fighting my thoughts-

Never be slow around an alien. It lurched toward me once again, and my foot struck out, catching it in its' stomach. It staggered backwards, but glowered at me through narrowed eyes. I glared back.

Merrill's arm was trembling as he pulled me away from the creature. "Isabelle, you're going to get hurt-"

I shook my head. "It can't even move-"

That was when it moved.

I admit I should have been faster on my feet, but really, when you're being attacked by an alien, you don't exactly act normally.

The alien let out a small cry-maybe it sensed its' time was up, and just wanted to go out on a high note-and grabbed for my arm again, its' fingers just missing. It's claw, however, caught me, dragging a hole through my sleeve-and cutting into my skin. I cried out, unable to prevent myself, my foot kicking it again.

"Isabelle!" Merrill's voice was by my ear as he dragged me back, and I could feel his arms around my shoulders, his body shaking. He stared at me, lowering the bat slightly, his arms winding around me. "Look at me. Are you OK-"

It was one second too soon.

"Merrill!" My own voice rose to a scream, as the alien lunged again, this time with its' hand heading for Merrill's face. Merrill-whose reflexes seemed to have survived since his days playing minor league baseball-ducked fast-almost fast enough.

The hand missed his eyes, but one of the nails caught the skin on the edge of his cheek, and Merrill yelled something incoherent, his hand flying to his face. I pulled him back, hands on his shoulders, and to my horror, noticed blood running through his fingers.

The alien watched us, its' eyes glittering maliciously with something that looked suspiciously like triumph. I gritted my teeth, my eyes suddenly burning. Everyone has a breaking point. This was definitely mine.

I stepped closer to it, my fingers closing around the nearest glass of water. "Trust me" I whispered, a hiss meant only for the creature's ears. "I've been scared of a lot more than you."

A vision of my sister danced quickly before my eyes, and I shoved it away. "And-" I took a deep breath, moving nearer. "If you go near my boyfriend or my family again, I swear-" I licked my lips for a moment, my thoughts suddenly burning, the words piling up in my throat, forged in a furnace of anger. But all I could get out was three whispered words, sliding between my lips like secrets. "I'll kill you." I swallowed, my eyes on the creature's, waiting for it to attack. "Except-" I lifted the glass. "That might be kind of hard, since you'll already be dead."

I poured the water over it's head.

The thing lunged toward me, hand heading for my throat, but the water was splashing onto its' shoulder-despite the sudden movement, I'd hit some of my target-and it faltered for a moment, its' eyes suddenly uncertain, as it wavered, off-balance.

One second was all it needed. Merrill leapt forward beside me, his bat already extended, clenched between two hands. The creature was backed up against the cabinet, unable to escape. Merrill took in one long deep breath, steadying his aim. At this distance, I was near enough to see the way his eyes narrowed, his breathing suddenly laboured. But his hands remained perfectly steady.

The creature moved again, and so did Merrill. With a long cry-a sound of victory, or anger, or a mixture of both-the bat swung, its' aim true, and found its' target on the creature's side. The creature staggered, falling backward against the cabinet, its' eyes widening as it did so. We watched, as it fell, arms wild, as-

The cabinet shook, vibrations travelling up through the wood. I watched as, as if in slow motion, the three glasses of water-left in that perfect triangle shape- slowly tipped over, landing heavily on the wood of the cabinet, the water pouring over the side of the furniture, right onto the waiting alien's face.

It cried out, then, and I turned away. I hated it, but I didn't want to see it, didn't want to see it happen. I wanted to, and didn't want to, but I turned away, and Merrill held me, letting me bury my face in his shoulder, my hands clamped over my ears until, the thing's howling died down a little. Only then did I dare to look, my eyes focusing on its face even as Merrill's arms wrapped around me, his lips murmuring something in my ear. Only then, did I dare to look, and my eyes met the creature's.

Its' lips moved slightly, its' chest rising and falling, and I frowned. From this distance, it almost looked like it could be speaking-could be saying something. I stared at it, suddenly thinking of what it must be like to die with your skin burning-surrounded by hostile strangers-My teeth bit into my lip.

The alien's chest movement slowed, its' mouth suddenly sucking in oxygen in one gasp. It's eyes closed and a moment later, the thing was still.

Dead.

Neither Merrill nor I moved for a moment. We just remained still, clutching each other, his breath ragged against my neck. We were alive. We were alive. It was over.

It was over.

I hugged Merrill to me, leaning against him, pulling his hand into mine, my skin brushing his. "Let me see-" I was already examining the wound on his face, the blood still running down his cheek. "God-" My words choked off, tears suddenly starting in my eyes. I stared up at Merrill, my vision suddenly slightly blurred, and I touched the skin of his cheek. "You're alive." The words were a whisper. "We're-"

Merrill nodded, pulling me closer again. His mouth was muffled against my shoulder and I could feel him trembling as he hugged me. "Isabelle-" He pulled back suddenly, eyes looking lost, desperate, like a little boy. "My bat-"

I stared at him. "What do you mean?"

Merrill held up his hands. Both were empty, and his gaze was already wandering over my shoulder down to the family room floor. Swallowing, I followed his stare, already knowing somehow what I would see.

The bat lay on the floor, splintered and shattered. The words painted onto the wood-I'd never even read them-were barely visible. It was clearly broken to bits.

I swallowed. "Oh, Merrill-Merrill, I'm sorry-" My hands were already moving to his shoulders. "Merrill, I'm sorry-I'm so sorry-"

Merrill was already shaking his head. "It's all right-" His eyes found mine. "Are you all right?" His hand travelled to my arm, gaze dropping to stare at the scratches that littered my skin. His eyes widened.

I nodded, quickly. "It's fine. They look worse than they are, but your face-Merrill, we've got to get you cleaned up-" My eyes flickered to his, stroking his cheek with one hand. "Come on, let's get you outside-"

"OK." Merrill's voice was low and his eyes didn't leave mine once as he nodded. "We actually did it, Isabelle."

I nodded.

"We're alive." Merrill's lips twitched into an incredulous smirk. "We're all alive. God, we're all-" He stared at me, his eyes suddenly suspiciously damp. "We're OK" he murmured, pulling me into another hug. "We're OK."

I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of his shirt. "We made it." The words were a whisper into the air. I felt rather than saw Merrill's nod of agreement.

I gasped, drawing back sharply. "Morgan-"

Merrill nodded, his own eyes widening. "Let's go and-" He swallowed, leaving the rest of the sentence dangling ominously in mid-air, and taking my hand, turned towards the doorway. I followed, my eyes drifting back to the alien's body one more time. It lay still on the floor, its' eyes shut, its' face-and I couldn't look properly. The features were blurred and distorted, as though burned with acid. I swallowed, turning away again, feeling, to my surprise, the burn of tears in my eyes.

I hated it. But I couldn't help but wonder about it. What had happened? Why had they come here?

It occurred to me that we'd never know. And that we had to kill the only creatures that could possibly have told us.

A sad thing, really.

Merrill's arm slid around me as we headed out the door. The sunlight struck me full in the face, making me squint, raising a hand in front of my eyes. It had been a whole day since I'd last seen the sun, I realised-in fact, the last time I'd been outside was when Merrill and I went to get the boards.

There was a scurrying to my right, and I turned to see Bo making her way toward us. Her face was creased with anxiety as she ran to my side, hand slipping into mine. "Isabelle-"

"It's all right, honey." I bent down, lifting her into my arms, savouring how real she was-how alive. I hugged her close, burying my head in her hair for a moment. _She's OK. She's OK._ "It's all right, now. It's all right."

Bo struggled for a moment. "Uncle Merrill's face's bleeding." Her eyes flickered to my arm. "So's your wrist."

"I know, sweetheart." I kissed her cheek quickly, adjusting her slightly, worried about her slipping down. "Merrill, we need-"

My voice trailed off. Merrill had gone very still, his eyes staring straight ahead, watching something I couldn't see. His face was white, whiter than chalk, and my heart, which had been gradually slowing to its' normal pace, picked up speed again, my throat suddenly tightening, as I caught sight of what had attracted his attention.

Graham was kneeling on the ground, with Morgan in his arms. Morgan lay stretched out, his body limp, head tipped back. Even from this distance, the pallor of his cheeks was clear, his eyes closed, unresponsive. He was motionless, so still, he resembled a statue.

Merrill and I moved simultaneously, both of us running across the lawn, our feet pounding the grass. The air tasted bizarrely sweet, in sharp contrast to the scene unfolding before our eyes. Bo's arms tightened around my neck as we ran, her lips puckering.

It was only a short dash to cross the lawn to Morgan, but it felt like a lifetime, despite the fact it must have taken us less than ten seconds. Merrill slowed before me, sinking to his knees, his face suddenly crumpling, and I knew that this was it. He'd reached his limit.

I sank to my own knees, gently disentangling Bo's arms from where they wrapped around my neck, tighter than tentacles. I crawled forward, my breath harsh in my throat, my hand reaching for Morgan's arm, shrinking at the coolness of his skin.

"That's why he had asthma." Graham's voice was low, clawing out of his mouth. His arms were tight around his son, holding him still, refusing to loosen their grip for even a moment. Morgan's head flopped back, the skin on his cheeks pale, his lips parted slightly. I swallowed. He was painfully silent, and with the tears that suddenly blurred my vision, I couldn't make out if his chest was moving or not.

Graham's eyes were closed and his own breathing was shallow, his words a whispered gasp. "His lungs were closed...his lungs were closed..." He took a deep breath, the air choking off in his throat. "No poison got in...no poison got in..."

_We are all gathered around him, and he lies still. His little sister lets out a small, mangled sob, and she murmurs her father's name, her face crumpling as she watches her brother. I watch the little boy, willing him with my eyes to move, to wake up, to be OK. I watch and watch._

_He doesn't move._

Merrill's face was crumpled and I knew he couldn't hold it together any longer. My own eyes were burning, and it took me a moment to realise my cheeks were wet with silent tears, coursing over my skin. Merrill leaned forward, his hand brushing Morgan's neck, fingers feeling for a pulse. A drop of blood-whether mine or Merrill's, I couldn't tell-fell to the lawn, a bright bead of colour.

"Don't touch him, give him a minute-" Graham's voice came in a frenzy, and Merrill withdrew his hand, the fingers pressing to his lips, as though he could push back the sobs that seemed to be building. I wanted to take his hand, but I couldn't move. Something wouldn't let me move.

"Graham-" Merrill's voice was a desperate whisper, and I heard the threat of tears behind the words. He stared at his brother, head shaking slightly, as the crushing realization sank into all of us, an inexorable knowledge, that pressed into my chest, making me gasp for breath, as though in sympathy with Morgan.

"Give him a minute!" Graham's eyes stayed on his son, his eyes narrowed, and I knew he was waiting for something from Morgan, any sign of life, any sign that it wasn't over.

Merrill's hand curled into a fist, and I knew that he was feeling what I was. This couldn't be happening. Not after everything. This couldn't be how everything ended. It couldn't be.

Merrill scrambled to his feet, his hand covering his eyes, and I knew he'd succumbed to tears for once, turning away so that the rest of us wouldn't see. My hand reached for his shirt, but he pulled back, and I felt more tears sting my eyes, sliding down my cheeks, as I turned to Morgan.

_This can't be how it ends...it can't be.._

_The water, the rearranging, the attacks-it was all for something, it had to be. It had to be-_

"D-Daddy-" Bo's voice was tentative, a small cracked sound, her cheeks creased with confusion. She leaned forward, her hand reaching for her brother's.

"Don't touch him!" Graham's voice was a jagged whisper, and Bo's face crumpled then, dissolving into a mess of tears. I pulled her close, pressing her face into my arm, hoping to hide her somehow, anyhow, make sure she didn't see all of this. She was only four.

She was only four...

_"There's a reason for it. Remember that."_

_Remember that..._

"This can't be it..." The words were a whisper through my lips, as I leaned over my nephew. He was so still, his eyes closed-I was reminded of when he was a baby, when I'd peered over the edge of his crib at him, watching him sleep. He'd looked so small then, so in need of protection. I remembered hours as a little girl, holding him while he slept, watching his face move with his dreams, vowing that I'd always look after him, no matter what.

Morgan was lying still, his eyes unmoving. "This can't be it." The words broke through again and I felt a fresh flood of tears course down my cheeks. "This can't be-" My own voice broke as I watched him.

"Graham!" Merrill's voice was a desperate cry, muffled by suppressed tears and I knew he was breaking under all of this. Bo stayed still by my side, crying silently, her hair hiding her face. But I watched Graham. He stayed still, his arms holding Morgan, his lips pressed together. I watched him, my eyes burning.

"Don't." Graham's voice was a whisper. "Don't."

_There's a reason for it..._

Graham's eyes closed, and so did mine. I pulled Bo closer to me, feeling my body shake suddenly, the temperature seeming to drop. The air was silent, defeated, a long moment of deafening quiet falling all around us.

And then I heard it.

"Dad?"

My head shot up. Bo's shoulders tensed under my arm. Behind me, I sensed Merrill spin around, heard his sharp intake of breath, muffled under tears. But it was Graham I was watching and I saw the way he dissolved, crumpling forward over his son, the tears creasing down his cheeks, at the sound of a voice I hadn't thought I'd ever hear again.

Morgan blinked slowly, his lips barely moving. But his chest was rising and there was a steady drumbeat of blood under his skin. His voice was small, but audible, and I didn't think I'd ever loved the sound of anything more. "What happened?" The words were a murmur of confusion, his eyelids shifting slightly. "Did someone save me?" The question was faint, a whisper, but Graham just held his son closer, letting out a gasp-a gasp filled with tears, with the silence of unsaid things, which made a louder sound than anything.

His whisper was quiet with relief, jagged with thanks. "Yeah, baby, I think someone did."

Merrill sank to his knees beside us, his arms leaning forward, travelling around Bo and I. Graham held his son closer, his own breath suddenly tight in his chest, the sobs choking his speech. I leant forward, letting my hand brush Morgan's cheek.

"It's OK-" My voice was a whisper. "It's OK."

Merrill pulled me to him, kissing my cheek rapidly and I hugged him back, feeling the way his shoulders shook under my hands. Bo curled into us both for a moment, her little arms wrapping around our necks, before reaching forward, taking her brother's hand in her own.

I took a breath. "My parents-" We had to find out, had to know. But I remembered they'd said they were near the lake-the lake-and the aliens didn't like water- Fresh tears flooded my eyes. There was a chance... a chance...

Graham's eyes met mine over his son. "We'll find out." It was a promise.

Morgan's voice was faint, but level. "They're OK, Isabelle." I stared at him, my eyes finding his. They were open now, the lids heavy, but they watched mine, the blue full of a strange certainty. "They're OK."

I didn't know why I believed him. But I did.

Partly, at least.

Merrill pulled me closer, his lips brushing mine, in a fierce, rushed kiss, that made me slide my arms around his neck, burying my face in his skin. We'd made it. We'd made it.

"Guys-" Morgan's voice was faint, and his eyes were half-closed, but he fixed Merrill and I with what looked like a remarkably triumphant stare for a ten-year-old who'd just been attacked by an alien. "I have just woken up, you know."

My laugh was low, threaded through with tears, and Bo giggled, too, her fingers clutching her brother's palm tighter. Merrill smirked, his cheeks still wet, as he bent forward, eyes meeting Morgan's. "Hey, Morgan." His voice was a whisper.

Graham murmured something, and my eyes caught his. "What?"

Graham looked at me quietly. "She knew."

I frowned, caught off-guard. "What?"

Graham looked at Morgan for a long moment, before turning back to me. "She knew." His eyes met mine and neither of us had to pretend not to know who the other was talking about.

"She said there was a reason." More tears came down my cheeks, and I knew that there were going to be long explanations and stories about this, and maybe sometimes no explanations at all, but that was for in a moment. Right now, all we needed was this. "She said there was a reason." Graham's eyes widened as he watched me, and I nodded. "A lot to talk about."

Graham sighed. "I'll say." But his gaze turned back to his son, and so did mine.

Morgan's lips moved into a slow smile. "Hey, Isabelle."

There were more tears blinking from my eyes now, but I returned the smile. "You're back."

Morgan nodded, his eyes closing again. Graham watched him for a moment, teeth chewing at his lip. "We need to get him to a doctor." He glanced at Merrill and I. "And the two of you-God, Merrill, your cheek-and Isabelle, your arm-" He winced, eyes roving to our faces. But I couldn't feel the pain in my wrist. All I could see was Morgan lying in front of me, a soft smile at his lips. Alive. Alive.

Merrill nodded, and Bo clutched her brother's hand tighter. But for a moment, none of us moved. I reached out, taking Morgan's other hand. My other arm brushed Merrill's shoulders, Bo's hair. Graham was holding Morgan in his arms. Bo sat quietly between Merrill and I, her own face, tear-stained but splitting into a soft smile, that made her look more like her mother than ever.

For a moment, we just sat there, the five of us, the light warm on our heads. The sun had risen, the same as any other morning. Only, this wasn't any other morning.

I didn't know what was going to happen next. But we'd survived so far. We'd survived so far.

I leaned into Merrill, not taking my hand away from Morgan's. Merrill pressed his lips to my cheek again and Morgan's eyes met mine, lips curving into a slow smile-a smile that held a hint of teasing about it. He was coming back to himself. I returned the look, feeling Graham's smirk as he watched the two of us, Bo huddling in closer to me, her eyes never leaving her brother's face.

We'd survived so far. We'd made it.

And we'd make it through what came next.

Whatever it would be.

**Hope that chapter was somewhat worth the wait. And next chapter's the last one. *cries* As always, if you enjoyed it, please leave a review.**


	14. Forwards

**Hi, everyone!**

**Well-this is it. The last chapter. God, it's been a year since I posted the first one. A whole year. And wow, I look at the earlier chapters and I think thank God I've improved a bit from that. **

**But yeah, here's the final chapter.**

**A couple of you said you'd like to see the soundtrack I used so, I've written it for you at the end.**

**Anyway-sequel. Sequel, sequel, sequel. Originally, I had no plans to write a sequel. I was just planning to write the events of the film. But then, I got the idea for a sequel. Only thing is, I have no time to work on a sequel right now.**

**If I do a sequel, then it wouldn't be for several months. Because I've got exams in the next few weeks, and I've got other writing I need to focus on and I might need a little break from this one for a while, having done about one chapter a month for the past year. Can't believe it's been a year since I first posted this, either. Wow. **

**OK, I've officially decided I have to write a sequel at some point. But at some point in the future. Not for at least several months. Still, it's my hope that when I write it, some of you guys might want to read the sequel, too. I hope you will, anyway!**

**Anyway, that's the sequel thing. **

**And lastly, thanks to everyone who read this. Thanks to everyone who put it as a favourite, who put it on alert, who put me on favourite or alert, and who reviewed it. Heck, thanks to anyone who read the thing. I never knew it would get this many followers-Signs isn't that big of a fandom. Anyway, thank you. It was the first fanfiction I ever wrote and I didn't expect this much support. So you guys made me more confident with writing. Thanks to all of you for that.**

**Anyway, here is the last chapter. The last chapter. I can't believe I can now write Complete. It actually made me tear up a bit. *sniffs***

**Well, here we go. Here is the last chapter of Looking On. And I don't own Signs or any of the characters, except Isabelle and her parents.**

***sniffs* Hope you enjoy!**

"I still can't believe there was so much." I slumped against the door of Merrill's car, closing my eyes for a moment. "I didn't know I even brought that much into my dorm room."

Merrill, throwing the last bag into the back seat, nodded in agreement. "I'll second that. I'm the one who carried most of it."

I rolled my eyes. "Only at your insistence. I was perfectly capable."

"After you dropped the first one on my foot, I thought it might be safer."

I tutted. "Typical."

Merrill's lips twitched in a quick grin, which I returned as his eyes locked with mine. This was one of the many things I loved about Merrill-the way he could grin at me, meaning it with his eyes as well as his lips. Merrill. Merrill, Merrill, Merrill.

God, I loved Merrill.

I leaned against him, sliding my arms around his shoulders as he slammed the car door shut. "Thanks." I pressed my lips to his cheek, revelling in even this small contact. "We've got to go. They'll be waiting for us."

Merrill tilted his head, letting his mouth brush mine. I closed my eyes, feeling the smile blossom, even before my hands found their way into his hair, my lips moving with his into a gentle kiss, pressing my body to his, feeling his heart pound against mine. It took a long moment for us to break apart, Merrill's hand stroking my cheek.

When he spoke, his voice was slightly uneven, his words ragged, and it made me smile harder to know that one kiss had this effect on him, that it was me who made him feel like this. "What was that for?"

"Helping me." I didn't pull away from him, instead brushing my lips across the hollow in his throat, sending a shudder through his whole body. Merrill's hand slid into my hair and he tilted my face to look up at him. "Especially after last time I was packing stuff up."

Merrill raised an eyebrow. "At least, then you brought everything with you and didn't spend three days going through everything and reminiscing." He pressed another kiss to my forehead. "How long can it take you to decide how to pack up the stuff from a college dorm room?"

"Longer than it did to move the stuff." I grinned back up at him, fighting a wave of giddiness. Summer lay ahead, long days, longer nights, sunshine bathing the fields with freedom. I might be a college graduate, but in summer, I was a kid, the same as I'd always been.

Not in every way, though.

I pressed my lips to Merrill's cheekbone one last time, before turning back to the truck. "Come on." I scrambled into the car, pulling at the seatbelt. "Morgan and Bo will murder us if we're late."

Merrill nodded, a rueful grin creeping to his lips, as he headed round to the other side of the car. I patted the seat affectionately. I loved this car. It felt right to have it, right to have this one with Merrill. I loved my old car, but sharing one with Merrill felt natural. Right.

Plus, we could drive pretty fast.

Merrill pulled himself into the seat beside me, his lips brushing my neck, nibbling my ear for a moment. I shuddered, feeling that same rush through me, that same longing I'd felt that nightmarish night in the basement, when he'd been kissing me so hard I'd thought I'd die of it.

That had been over a year ago now, and I could still remember every detail of those few days. I still woke up sometimes, whimpering, the skin of my back stinging with fresh pain, from where the alien's claws had raked across me. Sometimes, when I examined my wrist, the scars still faintly visible in the sunlight, I could still feel its' hand grabbing hold of me, the burning sensation in my skin.

I knew it was just imagination. I knew it was just memory.

It didn't make it any less unsettling.

But whenever I woke up, surfacing from yet another sea of images of Morgan lying helpless on the grass, the alien turning toward us, the glasses of water clattering to the ground like so much confetti, it took less than a moment, before Merrill's arms would be around my shoulders, his lips whispering into my ear, soothing words combined with gentle kisses, on my neck and shoulders, murmuring that it was all a dream, all just a dream. And it wouldn't be long before I turned toward him, my arms wrapping around him, lips nudging under his chin, losing myself in him.

I darted another glance at Merrill as he gunned the motor. "Reckon they'll want to kill us when we get there?"

Merrill shrugged, his familiar grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "50/50." His eyes met mine, and I returned his smile, my hand sliding into his for a moment, before he turned back to the road, his smile slightly wider than before.

As we neared the house, I shuffled lower in my seat, tugging at a loose hangnail, my eyes straying back and forth. Merrill's eyes flickered sharply to me. "You OK?" The words were soft, almost a whisper and I forced a quick smile to my lips, fighting the urge to nibble at my nail.

"Yeah. Just-" I shivered, despite the heat of the afternoon sun. "The crops." I didn't look at Merrill as I spoke, keeping my gaze lowered.

Merrill's hand squeezed mine and my teeth sank into the skin of my lip, my thumb stroking across the skin of his palm in one quick caress. It had been over a year, but every time I looked at the crops I still shivered. The scars on my skin throbbed painfully, little flashes of memory stabbing up my arm.

I examined Merrill with my eyes, taking him all in. "You're lucky." I traced the thin line on his temple with the tip of one finger. "Yours' doesn't show." I'd never been able to figure out why it was that the scars on my skin showed while the scars on Merrill's were almost invisible. I was sure he'd been clawed far worse than me.

Merrill's lip curled, his familiar grin sending a spark into my chest. "Only you could look at someone whose face was clawed by an alien and say they were lucky."

I elbowed him gently in the ribs. "You know what I mean."

Merrill sniggered, both hands finding their way back to the wheel. I stared straight ahead, thankful to have distracted him. No matter that Merrill had never laughed at me once in these past twelve months, at whatever strange little fears and anxieties he'd persuaded me to confide in him, no matter that he never seemed fed up with listening to me, no matter that he'd never once got annoyed at the amount of time I spent worrying. I didn't want to burden him down, be one of those clingers who can't go five minutes without crying on her boyfriend's shoulder.

Both of Merrill's hands were wrapped firmly around the wheel, the bones white against the skin stretched over his knuckles, but his eyes were once again on me. He was scrutinizing me closely, eyes narrowed, and at once I knew I hadn't fooled him.

"It's OK, Izzy." His voice was very low, gentle, and I smiled at the sound of it, slowly meeting his eyes. "They're not coming back."

I swallowed. "You heard what they said at the time. That they might come back."

"Yeah, but not yet."

"You heard everything that was in Morgan's book. They could come back with full forces-"

"Yeah but not for hundreds or thousands of years," Merrill reminded me gently. "Plus, Morgan's book wasn't exactly accurate."

"True." I had to laugh at the idea of the aliens being vegetarians and small-the one that had grabbed Morgan had been twice my size.

I shuddered. I still hated to think of anything grabbing Morgan, despite the fact he seemed to have been mostly unharmed since that morning. In fact, apart from an overnight stay in hospital, and weekly appointments for three months, he was as well as he had ever been. If I'd had any fears that he might have been traumatized or damaged or any other spiel, he'd proved me wrong by pointing out cheerily that everyone was always fascinated to hear the whole story.

I guessed that being grabbed by an alien was pretty good fodder for a ten-year-old boy's popularity.

Bo took a little longer to adjust. Perhaps it was simply that she was younger, or perhaps it was that she'd been aware of what was going on, when Morgan had long lapsed into unconsciousness-he'd told us later he "didn't much remember" the alien holding him. "I remember up to lying on the couch," he'd told me, lying back against the hospital pillows, his face pale, but lips stretched into a small smile. "And then I was on the grass."

Graham had leaned forward then, his eyes narrowed with concern, hand on Morgan's arm. "Did you see anyone?" At his son's puzzled look, he'd continued. "I mean-while you were unconscious? Anything, anyone-"

Morgan had frowned, eyebrows knotting together, his head eventually shaking. "No. Don't think so, anyway. Why?"

Graham had bitten his lip and Merrill and I had carefully avoided one another's eyes. We all knew whom Graham had been wondering might have been seen by Morgan.

Bo's quietness had increased for a while afterwards. Still, we were all around to help her-we'd ended up back in the Hess house after only a couple of days. I hadn't been privy to the bustle of activity that had taken place in the twenty-four hours after the alien's appearance-the inspections, the visits by the investigators, the interviews. I'd spent most of that time by Morgan's hospital bed, with my head on Merrill's shoulder, Bo sitting on my knee, thumb stuck in her mouth, a regressive habit from years ago.

But we'd ended up back there-despite everything. For some reason, it felt like home still. It didn't feel as though anyone was meant to leave.

The car crunched over the gravel, and I determinedly avoided looking at the corn crops, as we pulled up outside the house. Outwardly, it still looked much the same as it did this time last year, when I pulled up here that morning-the windows looking out over the fields like guards, the shutters pulled back to let the daylight in, the slatted boards lapping over one another in perfect formation. Only now, I was in a different car and I leaned over, to whisper into Merrill's ear, lips catching his skin, making him laugh. Smoke was rising from the barbecue and I grinned-Graham had obviously remembered to watch the cooking this time.

The car rolled to a halt and I yanked at the door, sliding out, just as the front door crashed open and a small figure hurtled down the driveway, throwing herself into my arms. "Hey, Isabelle!"

I crouched, scooping her up, pressing a quick kiss to her hair. She'd grown a lot in the past year, but it wasn't a struggle. Her cheeks, smoother now, and with less of the childish chubbiness they'd had in previous years, were creased in a smile, her eyes dancing. I jiggled her into position on my hip, allowing myself to look into her eyes more comfortably. "Your dad remembering the barbecue this time?"

Bo giggled, her arms lacing around my neck. "Mm-hmm." Craning over my shoulder, her eyes widened. "Hey, Uncle Merrill!"

Merrill ruffled her hair, planting a quick kiss on my cheek. "Where's your dad, Bo?"

Bo indicated the house, her attention back on me, and Merrill promptly headed toward the steps, pausing only to give my hand a quick squeeze. I returned the gesture, following him away with my eyes

Bo stiffened suddenly. "Isabelle-" She chewed her lip for a moment, squinting slightly and I tightened my hold unintentionally. Ever since those nightmares, every night for three months, last year, nights with Graham sleeping by her bedside to keep her safe, I was watchful for any change in her behaviour.

I frowned, chucking her under the chin. "What's up?"

She stared at the car behind me. "What's all that stuff in the backseat?"

I relaxed, only just realizing I'd been holding my breath. Bo's gaze had been pointing ominously at the corn crops behind me, and an unpleasant shiver passed down my spine. The scar on my arm seemed to throb ominously, as if itself recalling the events of one year ago.

"Isabelle?" Bo's face crumpled in confusion, her head tipped to one side, nail tugged by her teeth. I dragged my gaze back to hers', forcing a quick smile to my lips. Apparently, I'd let the silence hang too long.

"Just the things from my dorm room. Remember, I graduated last week?" I had to admit, Bo had behaved pretty well for a five year old at the ceremony. Colleen had graduated from high school when I was a year old and college when I was Bo's age. At both ceremonies, I'd managed to disrupt the entire thing, simply by screaming for food during the first, and by managing to toddle halfway up the aisle at the second, which resulted in my mother having to duck and dart out of her seat in order to beckon me back. In retrospect, my sister was pretty generous to have forgiven having to deliver a speech while the entire audience struggled to ignore the sounds of a five-year-old's shrieks of "I want to go on stage with _Collie!" _Bo, by contrast, had behaved impeccably.

"Oh." Bo chewed her lip thoughtfully. "But you moved out Nana and Grandad's house ages ago-"

I laughed. "Yeah, but I still stayed in dorms sometimes, remember?" It had just been easier to live in the dorms during the semesters, if only to keep up my timekeeping. At least, in the dorms, I had a better chance of getting up on time. Still, now that I was leaving college-finally-I'd packed up the few remaining items lying about my dorm room, enlisting Merrill's help when it looked like it would take too long.

"Isabelle!" Morgan's voice broke through the air, and I turned to see him, ambling out of the house, Merrill's arm around his shoulders. He shot me a quick grin and I returned the expression, noticing that he seemed to have grown three inches in the two days since I'd last seen him. I guessed at almost twelve, it was about time he shot up.

He stopped short of giving me a hug and I suppressed a smile at that-instead, he gave me a mildly awkward high-five, before reaching up to ruffle his sister's hair.

"Glad to have finished school?" I asked, as Merrill held out his arms for Bo. She wrapped her arms around his neck, nestling into his shoulders.

Morgan shrugged. "I guess." He flashed a grin at his uncle. "Want to play baseball, Uncle Merrill?"

I didn't hear Merrill's reply, as there was a sharp tap on the shoulder, and I turned round, my eyes narrowing, only for my nail to travel to my mouth at the sight of my mother. "Hey, Mom."

My mother smiled. At this distance, the lines under her eyes were more noticeable, the indentations that spoke of a lifetime of laughter and worry and sadness, and love. Positive and negative, underlapping and overlapping.

"Hey, Isabelle." She echoed the greeting somewhat ironically, looking me over with her eyes. She smiled, a glimmer of pride in her expression. "So, packing up went well?"

I swallowed. "Yeah." God, how could this be? One year ago, we'd all survived an alien attack and yet there were still things I couldn't say to my mother.

She smiled once again. "Isabelle, you can talk to me. I'm not going to bite you."

A small laugh broke through my lips. I guessed we had got on a lot better since one year ago. I still remembered how she'd found me in the hospital.

I'd been asleep when my mother had arrived, draped over Merrill's lap, my head on his knee when I'd felt someone shaking my shoulder. "Isabelle-Isabelle-"

I'd jerked awake grumpily. "Huh?" Immediately, my eyes had flickered to Morgan in the bed-some emergency with him was the primary reason I'd expect to be woken. But he was sleeping peacefully, and instead I'd turned, confused, to face Merrill, who was gently helping me sit upright, the bandages on his face slightly looser than earlier.

It had been then that I'd seen the woman standing in the doorway, staring at me. And it had been the way she'd been staring at me. That confused, desperate look, as if she wanted to hug me and never let go. As if she didn't know what to do. As if she didn't know what to think.

My mother.

"Mom?" My voice had been faint and she'd stared at me for a moment, hand pressed to her lips.

"Isabelle-" Her voice had fallen away . "Isabelle-" She'd taken a step into the room, her eyes focusing on Morgan for a second before darting straight back to me. She barely seemed to notice Merrill's arm wrapped around me or if she did, she didn't comment on it. She seemed to only have eyes for the sight of me alive.

"Mom?" My voice was small, almost lost in my throat. "You OK?"

She stood still and stared at me for a moment. Then, quite suddenly, she rushed forward, flinging her arms around my shoulders.

I nearly fell off Merrill's lap. "Mom-God-I'm all right-"

"We thought you were-"

I rolled my eyes, while simultaneously sliding my arms around her shoulders. "Mom, I'm OK-we're all OK-Morgan's fine, he's just a bit weak-"

Graham, lying stretched out on the bed with his arm around his son, was stirring. Bo, curled up next to me, muttered something in her sleep.

"Mom, careful-you're squashing Bo-"

My mother straightened up, wiping at her eyes hastily. "Sorry, sweetheart," she whispered, her eyes on Bo.

Bo sighed and turned over. I guessed that was an unconscious forgiveness.

My mother stared at me. "Are you-" Her eyes darted to my arms, wrapped in a bandage. "What happened to your-" She pulled me close again, her eyes frantic, but her hold gentle. I hugged her back, glancing quickly at Merrill, who remained tactfully silent.

I sat up, Merrill's arms sliding around my shoulders, holding me to him. "It's a long story, Mom." A new thought occurred to me. "Where's Dad? Where's-"

My mother held up her hand, silencing me. "Your dad's fine. He's just at the vending machine. But-" She wiped her hand across her eyes. "Darling, what happened?"

I sighed. "You'd better sit down."

That had been over a year ago, but I could still remember it clearly. Right up to my mother listening to the story, to my father appearing in the doorway (and focusing right in on Merrill's arm around my shoulders), to my father sitting down for a retelling of the story, to the moment where they told me what had happened to them.

"We saw them." My mother held up her hand before I could speak. "Don't worry-we were by the lake, remember?" She tried to smile, but I could see that she was still shaken. "And they came towards the car-"

"I tried getting out." My father spoke-one of the first things he'd said since we'd told the whole story of the alien, Morgan and the night in the basement.

My mother's eyes narrowed. "Yes, your father took the entire hero thing too far. He insisted on getting out of the car-I tried to pull him back-and well, they heard us."

I clapped my hand to my mouth. Merrill's eyes widened, and he pulled me closer, pressing a quick kiss to the top of my head. My father raised his eyebrows but declined to comment.

"And I tried pulling him back." My mother shot my father an exasperated look, which he pointedly ignored. I bit back a grin. "And then he popped up."

I suppressed a snigger at the phrase "popped up". It made the guy sound like a cartoon character. "Who?"

My mother went on as though she hadn't heard. "He lured them away." I stared at her. She went on, her eyes wide, as though she still couldn't believe what she was saying. "He had his car and he lured them away." She stared at me, shaking her head slowly. "He started the car engine and they turned toward him. They'd have come at us otherwise. There wouldn't have been time to get away. But he lured them away." She closed her eyes for a moment.

I stared at her. "Mom?"

She inhaled hard for a moment and then tilted her head up to look into my eyes. "He helped us."

So it was a he. "Was he OK?" The way she was talking was starting to give me the creeps. "Was he all right?" Merrill squeezed my hand and I realised I was nearly shouting. I took a deep breath, bit my lip hard. _Calm down. Calm down._

My mother stared at me. "Yes. He was all right." But her tone didn't suggest it. In fact, I had to admit that she looked as though she'd been hit with a startlingly heavy object.

"Mom?" My voice shook slightly and Merrill's fingers wound their way around mine. I squeezed back, grateful for the momentary contact. "What aren't you telling me?"

My mother sighed and looked up. Her eyes met mine directly and she didn't flinch. Didn't look away. "It was Ray Reddy, Isabelle."

I sat still for a moment, absorbing the knowledge. "Ray-?" Dimly, I echoed his first name, as though I could change the second simply by omission.

"Ray Reddy." My mother echoed her comment with a nod. "And don't ask which Ray Reddy, Isabelle, you know there's only one."

I guessed it would have been a stupid question. But still I leaned closer to Merrill, my head brushing his shoulder.

"Ray-Reddy?"

My mother nodded, a note of dry amusement creeping into her voice. "Yes, Isabelle, Ray Reddy. And it doesn't matter how many times you ask me to say it, it doesn't make it more or less true."

Merrill laughed shakily next to me, and I huddled further into him. Merrill spared a moment to glance anxiously at my parents, before he pulled me closer, finger stroking my cheek gently.

"Ray Reddy" repeated my mother, while taking in Merrill's arm around my shoulders with a wry look. "He saved us, Isabelle. No matter how implausible it sounds, it's the truth."

Looking at my mother now, the conversation echoed in my head with pitch-perfect memory. I stared at her harder.

"What's up, Isabelle?" she asked, her voice softer now. "Is something wrong?"

I shook my head. "No, it's just-" I trailed off, struggling to express how I felt. "I mean, I wasn't sure what to say."

My mother laughed, but there was a flicker of worry in her eyes. "It's only me, Isabelle" she said, and now her tone was much too gentle. "You can talk to me."

I nodded. "I know." I sighed. "Sorry. Just-stressed."

I couldn't bring myself to tell her that sometimes I couldn't find the words to talk to her. I loved her, but sometimes I couldn't find the words. It wasn't a fairytale. I couldn't tell her everything.

Though I talked to her about some stuff.

"Merrill helped me move some stuff out." I laughed, tossing a glance at him over my shoulder. I spotted him quickly, listening to something Morgan was saying. He was watching his nephew, but his eyes caught mine and he gave me a quick wink, before turning back to Morgan.

My mother smiled, also transferring her gaze to Merrill. "Taken it to your apartment?"

I nodded. "Yep. It wasn't as much as we thought."

My mother laughed. "Where's Dad?" I scanned the lawn for him, though given that there was hardly a crowd here, it was pretty obvious that he wasn't about.

"Inside with Graham." My mother's hand brushed my hair for a moment. "I was so proud of you, Isabelle. At the graduation."

I allowed myself a smile. "Thanks." I stared at her. "Mom, you remember-" I trailed off. "Sorry-"

My mother's hand touched my shoulder. "What is it, sweetheart?"

I swallowed, meeting her eyes. "You remember last year?"

My mother's eyes widened slightly, but that was the only indication of surprise she gave me. "Yes..." Her voice trailed off but she didn't pretend not to know what I was talking about.

I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest. "Do you think they'll ever come back?" I asked, without preamble. "Do you think they'll ever-you know-like they said at the time?"

My mother sighed, brushing my hair back behind my ears. "Is that what you're worrying about?"

I shrugged her off, feeling a sharp pang of annoyance at the dismissive tone in her words. "Don't act like it couldn't happen." I stared at her, fighting the urge to bite down on my nails. "Remember, last time, you kept saying-"

"I know what I kept saying last time." My mother's voice was uncharacteristically low and fierce. "And this time, I'm saying something different. Isabelle, you can't live your life worrying about this. It's not good for you." She looked at me with something like sympathy. "I'm not saying it will never happen. But we'll be better prepared next time. We'll know what to do. And, Isabelle, you've got to get on with your life. You can't live waiting for what's around the corner."

I swallowed, the gentleness of her tone taking the anger out of my sails, to my reluctance. It was still easier to use it, to wrap any rage around me, a protective cover. "Yeah, Merrill says that too." I glanced out at the horizon, my arms wrapped around myself at the heat of the day. The corn crops waved innocuously in the low breeze, and I shivered, remembering other days they had looked that harmless, that innocent.

My mother touched my arm gently. "Well, in that case, maybe you should listen to him." I shrugged, unable to stop the smile that made its' way to my lips at the thought of him.

My mother shot me a surreptitious look. "How are things with you and Merrill?"

I returned the glance, knowing as well as she did that there was no way I was giving her all of the details. "They're good." No need to add how good. No need to add, that sometimes I loved him so much, I thought I might crack open from it, that whenever I was worried about something, he was the only one that could soothe me, that whenever I looked at him, no matter where we were, I felt like I was at home.

And yeah, that all sounded extremely corny and made my teeth want to rot just thinking about it, but it was true.

My mother smiled, apparently not needing any more details. "Good. Your apartment OK?"

I nodded. "The apartment's great." It was, too. Ever since moving in there, six months ago, it had been great. I was pretty glad Merrill was there, too-though I guessed I didn't really need to worry about living alone, I'd been doing that in dorms for about four years. But still, being with him, all the time, was even better than I'd expected. I'd never really considered what it would be like to share an apartment with someone before-or that it was far better than living alone had been, at least for me.

I glanced at her. "You and Dad OK?"

My mother stood still for a moment, focusing her attention on me. "Why wouldn't we be, sweetheart?"

I shrugged. "Just wondered." I'd found myself doing this a lot recently-focusing on my parents, on Morgan and Bo, on Graham-just wondering if everyone was happy. I wasn't sure if this was a by-product of my own happiness, or if it was simply an effect of realising how quickly it could all be taken away.

My mother nodded, a small expression of puzzlement creeping across her face. "Well, yes, sweetheart, we're fine." She brushed the strands of hair behind my ears again. "Don't worry so much."

I couldn't help it. I knew it was over-the invasion, at least for the meantime. I knew that. But I still couldn't help it.

My mother leaned closer. "Your father was interested to hear about your and Merrill's little encounter, though. So was Caroline, when we bumped into her."

I swallowed. "You mean last week." I glanced at her quickly. "Have you spoken to him?"

"Who, Merrill?"

"You know who I mean."

My mother shook her head. "No. Not yet."

I bit my lip. I guessed I should have known. I turned back to the crops, as Merrill's arm fell around my shoulders.

"OK, Izzy?" His voice was soft, and I felt my own smile, as his lips brushed my cheek. Something about his simple presence made me feel better; just the way he whispered to me, the familiar touch of his hand on my arm, the way he pulled me into him, my head falling onto his shoulder. All of these were what I knew.

I nodded, enjoying the sound of the nickname he'd given me on his lips. "Yeah. Just talking with Mom about what happened last week."

Merrill's eyes met my mother's over the top of my head. "Oh. That." He bit his lip, which had been his reaction at the time, too. Not mine, though. I closed my eyes, remembering the incident with point-perfect precision.

We'd been standing in the bookshop, me lounging against the shelves, flipping through yet another copy of a novel I was dying to own, while Merrill made a Herculean effort to look the slightest bit interested in literature-I was well aware of the sacrifice it was for him-when he'd suddenly stiffened, his eyes flickering to the door of the bookshop.

I'd followed his gaze but he'd put his hand on my arm. "What's wrong?" I'd asked him, noticing the furrow of his eyebrows, the way his lip was caught between his teeth.

Merrill had shaken his head hastily. "Doesn't matter. There's nothing to-"

I was already turning around, scanning the shop behind us. "Merrill, what is-"

Merrill turned me round again, fixing his eyes on my own. "Izzy, it's nothing, it's-"

He'd shaken his head once again, in an apparent attempt to convince me that there was absolutely nothing interesting behind me, while frantically scanning the area as though he'd just seen a ghost. I'd stared up at him, my eyes boring into his, until he looked away. "Merrill." My voice brooked no argument. "Tell me what's going on."

He'd looked at me for another long moment, before apparently deciding that further discussion would be hopeless. "Izzy." He sighed, sliding his arm around my shoulders, before gently steering me around. "Look over there." He pointed into one of the further corners of the shop, his eyes narrowed. Frowning, I followed his gaze.

Ray Reddy was standing in the corner of the shop, his head bent over the book he was holding, knuckles white from clutching the cover. There was no doubt in my mind that he had seen us. There was no doubt in his mind that we knew he had seen us. There was no doubt in my mind that he knew we knew he knew we had seen him.

The sentences were so confusing in my head, it took me a few minutes to sort them out.

Then I felt the exact same awkwardness that Ray and Merrill must have been feeling. Even Carl, behind the counter, avoided my eyes, a flush of colour creeping up his cheeks.

I stared at Ray Reddy for a moment, before catching hold of Merrill's sleeve. "I'm going to say hi to him."

Merrill stared at me. "Seriously?"

I took a deep breath before nodding. "Yes. I mean-I thanked him that one time but-"

I'd thanked him last year-I mean, who wouldn't? He'd saved my parents' lives. He'd risked his own to do it.

He'd accepted my thanks, quietly and without ceremony, but it was still awkward-I guessed even then, you couldn't cancel out the past. But I couldn't just walk away from him.

I swallowed hard, tucking my hair behind my ears. "You coming?"

I expected Merrill to refuse, at first, but then, I should have known better by that point. "Yeah," he said, rolling up the magazine he'd been idly flicking through, and shoving it under his arm. I had to admit, it was less threatening than a baseball bat. His arm slid around my waist, and he pressed a quick kiss to the top of my head.

I cleared my throat as we got nearer. Standing next to the shelves, I picked up a magazine-any magazine-and began to flick through it. "Umm-"

Ray glanced at me quickly and looked away. Merrill leaned against the shelves, his hand sliding into mine, his eyes fixed on Ray. I eyed the rolled up magazine in his hand doubtfully, wondering if he was planning to hit Ray over the head with it. I squeezed his arm, praying he'd take the silent hint not to lose it with Ray.

"Hey, Ray." My voice came out slightly higher than usual. In normal circumstances, I'm pretty sure Merrill would have burst out laughing, but then again, we weren't exactly dealing with a normal situation.

Ray didn't say anything but he issued a quick nod in our direction. Merrill tensed beside me and I shot him a warning look.

"Um-" I dropped my gaze uncertainly. This wasn't exactly going the way I'd planned and I was considering faking an injury simply to escape the awkwardness of the situation. But when I glanced up again, Ray's eyes met mine and I bit my lip, knowing I couldn't just walk away.

"Um-" I folded my arms, leaning into Merrill once again. "I just wanted to say thank you. For last summer. I mean, I know it was a while ago, but-"

Ray nodded his head, and I noticed he too was chewing at his lip nervously. Merrill swallowed, pretending to be absorbed in the content of the nearest shelves.

Ray carefully placed the magazine he was examining back on the shelves. "It's fine. It's the least I could do." His eyes met mine and I could hear the unspoken words hovering between us. _Since I, you know, accidentally killed your sister._

"It's what anyone would do." The words were low in his throat and he avoided both mine and Merrill's eyes. Carl cleared his throat awkwardly behind the cash register. A heavy silence fell between us.

"Well-" Ray glanced nervously toward the door. "I should be going."

"You do that." Merrill spoke for the first time and I shot him a glare. Well done, Merrill.

Ray bobbed anxiously for a moment and then turned toward the door. He bowed his head toward me in an awkward farewell.

I sighed. "Ray." I couldn't let him go like that. I couldn't.

Ray turned back, looking as though he deeply longed to be anywhere else. "Yeah?"

I sighed. "Look-" I had no idea what to say but I took a step toward him. "You-" I bit my lip and folded my arms. Behind me, I could sense Merrill's gaze on my back.

Ray's eyes met mine and the words fell out of my lips before I'd even realised what I was saying. "Look, Colleen wouldn't have wanted you to be like this, OK?"

I felt like biting my tongue the second I saw the expression on Ray's face. It might have been my imagination but behind me I sensed Merrill stiffen suddenly, and for a moment, wished that I could rewind the last few minutes of my life and never say what I'd just said. Carl was now staring at us openly, without even bothering to try to disguise his avid interest.

I pressed on anyway. "Look, she wouldn't-she wouldn't want you to keep beating yourself up about what happened-she wouldn't-" I trailed off, feeling the blood rush to the surface of my skin.

Ray had dropped his gaze and I pushed my hair back off my face. "Look, all I'm trying to say, is-" I glanced around, despairing of my inability to ever talk to people coherently. "Just-she wouldn't have wanted you to spend the rest of your life thinking about it. And I know that you probably will anyway, but I just wanted you to know that she wouldn't have been bitter. She'd have forgiven you. She wouldn't have been mad. And-" I took a deep breath. "Neither am I. I mean, some of the time, I-" I swallowed. "But I don't think it was your fault," I said, enunciating each word carefully. "I don't think it was your fault." I swallowed, the words hanging in the air.

There was a long silence.

It was me who didn't dare to meet Ray's eyes now. It took me a long moment to look up, my hand clenched so tightly around the magazine that I was in danger of permanently damaging the pages.

"Isabelle?" It wasn't Merrill who'd spoken. I glanced up uncertainly, my nails automatically travelling to my mouth to be bitten.

Ray was looking at me as if I were a horse that might bolt. "Isabelle, I'm sorry." The words came out very steady as if they'd been rehearsed many times. For all I knew, they had. "I'm sorry I hurt your sister. I'm sorry I hurt your family. And her family." I'd have expected him to be crying, but his eyes were tearless. "I'm sorry for that."

I nodded once and strangely, my own eyes were dry, too. "I know you are." I reached toward him, intending to do something-shake his hand, pat his shoulder, something-and he moved at the same moment.

And I found myself giving him a hug.

It was a quick hug, that only lasted a second, and it was rushed and clumsy but it was a hug. My arms squeezed his shoulders for a moment and then I leaned back, not knowing where to look, my cheeks flushed scarlet. Ray was staring at me, as though he'd been hit with something heavy, and I suspected Merrill was looking at us the exact same way.

I stepped back, biting my lip once again. "Just-just so you know." My voice cracked but it didn't matter.

Ray nodded once, and even though he was still shifting awkwardly back and forth, he shot me a quick, hopeful smile. I returned it. "And Ray-" I knew what I was going to say this time. "You should come to one of Graham's services. He'd like to see you." I knew this was true, at least. "I know he'd like to see you."

Ray bit his lip, his eyes darting now. I guessed this might be a slightly bigger step to take. "I'll try." His gaze met mine and I knew he would. Not this week or the week after, but he'd try. One day he'd try.

He raised his hand in an awkward farewell, heading out the door-without any purchases, I noticed. Carl stared after him, his mouth hanging open.

"You can stop staring now, Carl," I reminded him, my tone somewhat wry. "The show's over."

Carl had the decency to look abashed.

I turned back to Merrill, who was staring at me as if I'd grown an extra head. I winced, as I slumped against the shelf beside him.

"I know what you're thinking" I said quietly, without looking at him. "Why did I go up to him? What was the point? He doesn't deserve it, etc." I sighed. "I just couldn't let him go like that. And Graham would like to see him. And it doesn't seem fair that he could end up spending the rest of his life punishing himself for one accident-"

"Izzy." Merrill's hands landed on my shoulders, turning me to face him. "I wasn't going to say any of that." His eyes searched mine for a moment, and my heart seemed to stutter in my chest. I remembered countless nights where he'd look at me like this, as though he was learning me off by heart, and I remembered the way it felt to look back at him like that before leaning in, letting my mouth brush his. Looking at him, I felt the same longing seize me now, and my hand stroked his cheekbone, wanting him near me.

"It's just-" I struggled to explain. "I don't want him to-"

"_Izzy." _Merrill's hands caught mine. "I wasn't going to say any of that."

I stared up at him. "What were you going to say, then?"

Merrill returned my gaze. "I was going to say...that was pretty brave." His tone was soft, gentle, and I swallowed, stepping closer to him, as his arms slid around my waist. "That was pretty impressive." He rolled his eyes. "And yeah, I know you're annoyed at me for what I said to him."

I smiled, letting my finger dance along his lips. "Not really. Not anymore." I tilted my mouth to his, letting my fingers slide into his hair. His hand caught my chin, holding me against him, as he kissed me back, his mouth warm and gentle and my mind seemed to dissolve as his lips moved gently with mine-

Carl cleared his throat dramatically, and we broke apart, Merrill with that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. I grinned back, his finger tickling under my chin gently.

I turned to Carl. "All right, we've stopped. See?" I turned back to Merrill. "I've forgotten what I was looking at now."

Merrill indicated the shelves behind me. "Something over there. And you might want to put that back." He pointed at the magazine.

I glanced down at it. "This?"

Merrill gently took it back, holding it up to examine the cover. "Well, I don't think you really want a copy of _Antiques Today_, do you?"

Remembering the conversation, I glanced at Merrill now. "Do you think he'll be all right?" I asked, my voice low. I hoped he would be.

Merrill nodded. "I think-with a bit of time-" He seemed to consider it for a moment, before pulling me into a quick hug. "Yeah, I think he'll be fine."

I smiled, a little reassured by this. "When'd you get to be this smart?" I pecked another quick kiss to his cheek.

Merrill shrugged. "Since I started going out with you. It rubs off. 'Specially when you're reciting your college work in your sleep." He shook his head. "I swear, during your exams, you woke me up, reciting facts about the healthy social development of a five year old."

I dissolved into laughter, and Merrill's arms slid around my shoulders, his eyes darting to my mother uncertainly. She was remaining tactfully silent, though there was a small smile hovering at her lips as she looked at me.

I sighed. "God, I'm hungry. Wish Graham would hurry up with the barbecue."

Merrill darted another anxious look at the smoke. "If he carries on talking with your dad much longer, I think we might have to _rescue _the barbecue."

I followed his gaze. "Jeez-" I slipped out from under his arm, heading toward the house. "I'll get them."

Merrill was already moving toward the barbecue, my mother following, with the assurance that the food would be salvageable, of that she was sure, and that there was nothing to worry about. I grimaced at the idea of trying to serve burned chicken to Morgan and Bo.

"Graham" I called as I approached the house. "If you and my dad don't get outside soon, I think we'll be having pizza for dinner."

During the course of a barbecued meal-with thankfully unburned meat-I kept glancing at the cornfields. They looked so harmless waving there in the early evening sunlight. But they'd looked this harmless a year ago, too.

I had to stop thinking like this.

"Isabelle?" Morgan nudged me gently in the side. "Pass me the ketchup."

"Please," Graham admonished him, with a quick wink to me. I shoved the bottle toward Morgan, too taken up in noticing how different Graham looked these days.

It was strange to remember those six months after Colleen had died now, the way Graham had been-so angry, so fierce, so determinedly disbelieving. But things were different now. I guess if you leave the church, there's always an option to go back in, because Graham was accepted back with no hesitation.

I asked him the night before his first service-less than two months after the invasion-if he was nervous.

Graham had looked at me for a long moment. We'd been standing on the back porch of the house, with Merrill gently coercing the kids into helping with the dishes inside.

"I'm not nervous exactly," he'd told me, staring out at the corn crops, his hands clenched on the porch rails. "I'm anticipating it. But more than anything, it's strange."

"To deny something exists and then be proved wrong?"

Graham had laughed softly. "No," he'd said gently. "To deny something exists even when you know it's true."

I smiled. "Well, we'll all be there. You know we will." I paused for a moment, before returning my gaze to the crops. "She'd have been proud, you know, Graham."

Graham's eyes met mine, and he didn't look away. "Yes. She would have been."

There was a short silence. Graham's lips twitched in a slow smile. "She'd have been proud of you, too, you know."

I smiled. "Hopefully."

Graham nodded. "Yeah. She would have been." He touched my shoulder gently. "She'd have been proud."

I'd wanted to thank him, but there were no words. So instead, I simply transferred my gaze to the fields, stretching out into the evening sky.

Now, I stared at Graham, his eyes crinkled with laugh lines, his hand resting lightly on Bo's shoulder as he guided her hand to a bowl. She too, was laughing, the soft, summer breeze blowing her hair about her face. In the early evening, she looked more like her mother than ever. I watched her, drinking her in.

Bo noticed the intensity of my gaze. "What, Isabelle?" She pushed her hair behind her ear with one hand-another familiar gesture.

I shook my head. "Nothing, sweetheart." I decided to change the subject. "You looking forward to starting school in the fall?"

Bo nodded. "Kind of. I get to be in first grade."

Morgan snorted. "You'll be in first grade, anyway, dummy."

Bo kicked him.

"Bo!"

After a quick round of reprehensions, I turned to face my nephew, brows still furrowed sulkily. "What grade are you in now, Morgan?"

He slouched slightly in his seat. "Middle school. Starting middle school, anyway." He sighed. "Don't want to."

"Morgan-" Graham shot him a warning look. "You know it will be fine."

I gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. "Yeah, well, everyone hates sixth grade. It's when you get to seventh grade that it gets better." I frowned. "Actually, eighth grade. Actually, high school. Actually, senior year. Actually-"

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Actually, when you leave?" His mouth was curling back into the familiar grin.

I nodded. "Pretty much." The table dissolved into laughter, and Morgan managed a grin, as he turned back to his food. Graham gave me a quick wink, and Bo stuck her tongue out at me over the table. My father too, met my eyes, a smile playing at his lips.

In the kitchen, afterwards, he followed me in. "Isabelle?"

I turned, wiping my hands hastily. "Yeah, Dad?"

He watched me quietly from the doorway. "I just wanted to say well done," he said quietly. "I was proud of you at graduation the other day."

I swallowed. "Thanks." I watched him quietly for a moment, noticed the way his eyes shifted nervously. Knew he was trying just as hard as I was.

"Isabelle?" At the questioning note in his voice, I raised my eyes to meet his. "Yeah?"

My father gave me a small smile-a small, genuine smile. "I'm glad you're happy with Merrill."

I stared at him. He gave me another smile and a nod before turning back to the porch. "Oh, by the way-" He turned to face me. "I think Morgan and Bo want you to play with them. They keep saying something about baseball?"

I nodded. "I think Merrill promised them. Tell them we'll be out in a minute." I didn't have any idea where Merrill was, actually-the last time I'd seen him, he'd been out on the porch, cigarette stuck between his lips. He still smoked the things, no matter how many times I'd gently nagged him to give them up.

"I don't want you to die before you're fifty," I'd murmured once, staring at the profile of his face, my cheek pressed into the pillow, letting my fingers dance across his chest, revelling in the warmth of his skin. My lips had brushed his shoulder, murmuring over his neck.

Merrill had smiled, rolling over to face me, his mouth almost tickling mine as he spoke. "Then I promise I'll give up before I'm fifty," he'd whispered, silencing any further concerns with a gentle kiss to my neck before moving his mouth back to mine.

I turned back to the sink and immediately stared at the row of glasses. The siren song still sounded in my head. _Put them in the right order. Make sure they're in the right order._

I stole a glance at the door. Morgan and Bo's laughter echoed around the kitchen walls, bouncing in from the evening air outside. _You don't want anything to happen to them, do you?_

I gritted my teeth. _You're not real. You're not real. If I always followed what you said, we might all be dead now._

If I hadn't neglected to line all the glasses up in the right order last year, we might not have been able to defeat the alien so quickly. Though, I had to admit, it was strange. Why had it been not following the thoughts in my head as opposed to following them that defeated the thing? How did that make sense?

And how come Bo still couldn't always make her way through one glass of water? And how come I still had nightmares? And how come-

I tried to stop the thoughts in my head. Enough. Nothing was perfect. And Bo could drink a whole glass sometimes. And what we'd seen last year, would be enough to give anyone nightmares. And-

I shivered, and shook my head. They were just dreams. Just dreams.

And I couldn't expect everything to be perfect.

Hands on my shoulder drew a gasp from my throat, and I swung round-only to see Merrill standing behind me. I tried to force a glare to my face, but confronted with his mouth quirked into that little grin, his hands sliding round my waist, the way they were doing, it was hard to work up any genuine anger.

"What is it?" My voice was quieter than I'd expected, my gaze quickly darting to the doorway to make sure we were alone. My eyes met Merrill's and I grinned, enjoying the sensation of his fingers stroking my back, his hands warm, yet sending shivers through my whole body. "What?" I couldn't stop the smile, even as Merrill gently ducked his head, kissing me before I could say anything more.

My hands wound into his hair, my pulse already racing faster, pressing myself against him, relishing the sound of his gasp as my hands danced across his skin, gently sliding under his shirt. His mouth grew fiercer on mine, and I relished the taste of him, the feel of the soft insides of his mouth, a small sound of pleasure in the back of his throat, as he gently moved his mouth to my neck, kissing a spot under my ear that made me shudder.

"Merrill-" I waited until he drew back, his eyes meeting mine, his gaze slightly unsteady now. I smiled, cupping his chin in my hands. "What was that for?" I whispered teasingly, letting myself brush against him once more, his arms tightening around me.

Merrill's lips moved into a slow, soft smile as he brushed his mouth against my forehead. "I love you, Izzy." The words were soft, gentle, and they still thrilled me to hear them.

I closed my eyes, leaning against him. "I love you, too." I could remember the very first time he'd said it-at least, the very first time when we hadn't been in a life-threatening situation.

We'd been sitting in Merrill's car, and my head had been lying on his shoulder, his hand stroking my hair. We'd been whispering to each other, his voice gentle, as he interspersed his words with soft kisses to my hair, to my shirt, to my lips. I'd watched him, my arms wrapped around his shoulders, thinking of everything I loved about him. The way he stared at me sometimes, as though trying to see inside my head, his eyes gentle and faintly curious. The way he always teased me about how much I read, though never without losing the faintly admiring tone in his voice. The way the guard in his eyes would sometimes slip down and he'd whisper to me, telling me something, something that made me kiss him, slide my arms around him, pull his head onto my shoulder and whisper to him, murmuring how much I cared about him.

But ever since that night at the bottom of the basement steps, we hadn't said it yet. Maybe it was just because we'd only been going out a few months. Or maybe I was just plain scared of it all going wrong.

But it had been that night that Merrill had glanced at me and smiled faintly. "What are you thinking about?" he'd murmured, his hands lost in my hair.

I'd smiled. "You," I'd murmured, huddling further into his chest. "What I love about you."

Merrill had smirked. "Anything you don't love?"

I'd grinned, pressing another kiss to his mouth. "I plead the Fifth on that one."

Merrill's low laughter echoed through the car and I smiled, tucking my head under his chin. It wasn't as though we never argued. We did. But it was difficult to, sometimes. It was difficult to stay mad at Merrill. The few times I'd attempted it, it had only been a matter of minutes, before he'd slide his arms around my shoulders, whispering an apology, eyes soft as they met mine, and I'd kissed him gently, communicating forgiveness immediately.

Merrill had tucked his hand under my chin, tilting my head to look at him. "You're so beautiful" he'd whispered and I'd resisted the urge to drop my gaze, feeling the blood rise to my cheeks. I felt my lips move into a smile, though, my own hand reaching for his. "I might not agree with you on that one."

Merrill stared at me. "You _are_ beautiful. And stubborn, by the way." He pressed a kiss to my nose, making me laugh softly. "And you laugh a lot. More than you used to. And you're very, very smart. And you make me laugh." Another soft kiss to my mouth and I drew back to stare at him, my heart suddenly thudding in my chest. "And I love you," he whispered, stroking my hair behind my ears. "I love you, Izzy."

I stared at him, something which felt remarkably like a firework display going off in my head. For a moment, I struggled to form the words. My finger stroked the shape of his lips. "I love you, too," I whispered, watching the way his eyes widened as he heard the words. "I love you, Merrill Hess."

Merrill's eyes seemed to light up, his mouth parting in a gasp. He stared at me for another moment, mouthing something silently, before he pulled my mouth to his with a wild gasp. My hands found their way into his hair as my mouth moved with his, a gentle ferocity pouring into the kiss, my heart slamming against his chest, beating in time.

I remembered whispering the words to him again, later that night, lying next to him. "I love you, Merrill Hess." He'd pulled me closer at that, my head nestling under his chin, his bare skin warm to the touch. I'd sighed, wrapping my arms around him, loving how close to him I was, my hair spreading out over the pillows, his arms holding me near as he'd whispered "Love you, Izzy. I _love _you." He'd kissed me again, but slower this time, much slower so that when he pulled away I was almost dizzy. He'd smiled and I'd closed my eyes, pulling him closer, revelling in how close we were, in the smile I couldn't push away, in the simple fact that as I lay next to him, I already felt like I was at home.

Now, I smirked, hands sliding into his hair. "Remembering the first night you said that-" I whispered, but any further conversation was cut off by a scuffle in the doorway.

"Uncle Merrill, you said you'd play with us-" Morgan abruptly turned away at the sight of Merrill's arms wrapped around me. "Sorry-"

"No, it's OK-" Merrill and I had already leapt apart as though we'd both received an electric shock and I could see the smirk hovering at his mouth. I shot him a warning look, already rearranging my expression as I turned to Morgan. "We'll be out in a minute. Why don't you and Bo go and get ready?"

As he hurriedly left, I turned to Merrill. "That's why we should save this for at home."

Merrill laughed, his lip curling into a crooked grin and I swatted his arm gently. "Come on. We promised them a game."

Stepping out, I blinked-I hadn't realised how bright even the early evening sunlight was. Morgan was standing still, with a small smirk, Bo jumping up and down at his side. Graham was laughing at something my father had said, and my mother was watching me. She had a small smile on her face- a small, peaceful smile.

Looking on-and God, that was still such a cheesy phrase-might be what therapists called it, but for me it was entirely different. It was just these moments, with my family, with Merrill, even just with me, that made me happy, that made me smile. That made me see that life went on.

And Colleen would know that.

Whenever I thought about her these days-or at least, walked in the woods, the places she loved to walk-I felt-happier. Calmer. More at peace.

I knew she'd be pleased about Merrill and I. Whenever I came home after visiting the woods and didn't have much of anything to say, Merrill would give me a sharp look but never push me to talk about it. Instead, he'd simply sit there with me, stroking my hair or kissing my neck and just let me gradually lose myself in him.

I knew Colleen would be happy about Graham. I knew she'd be happy with Mom and Dad. I knew she'd be thrilled with Morgan and Bo. I knew she'd be happy with Merrill and me.

That made me smile.

Bo came running up to me instantly, her long hair flowing behind her. "Girls versus boys!"

Merrill gave me a quick wink. I turned to Bo. "Ready to beat the pair of them?"

She slapped me a high-five. "Yep!" She turned to glare at her brother, who was measuring her height with a look of derision. "Dream on."

I raised an eyebrow. "We'll see who's saying dream on when we've won!" I stood up straight, tossing my hair out of my eyes. "Who's hitting first?"

Merrill laughed, ruffling Morgan's hair. "You two try. Then we'll show you how it's done." He gave me another grin that I struggled not to return.

"Don't push it, Merrill Hess." I picked up Morgan's favourite bat, and waved it threateningly. "The two of you remember when you're standing there, laughing-we're the ones holding the baseball bats."

There was an outbreak of laughter from Graham and my father. My mother raised an eyebrow at me. "Isabelle! You're meant to be the adult!"

At this, Morgan laughed. "Girls can't play, anyway."

Graham's eyes widened, even as he laughed. "I wouldn't say that in front of Isabelle, Morgan. Not unless you value your health."

I'd already raised an eyebrow. "Care to repeat that, Morgan Hess?"

But Bo was already trotting forward. Merrill watched with an expression of some amusement as the little girl neared him and her brother. She stood still, her hands on her hips, eyes narrowed in a glare which would not have looked out of place on the face of someone twice her age.

Morgan and Merrill waited. Bo hesitated, seeming to consider a moment, and then leaned forward, lips pursed, to deliver her threat. "You're going _down."_

There was a moment of incredulous silence before Merrill, Graham and my parents-even my mother-burst out laughing. I broke into a small round of applause and even Morgan fought back a grin as Bo strode, back ramrod straight, and eyes wide, back to me.

I slapped her another high-five. "Ready?"

She fixed me with a grim look and nodded.

As the others assembled themselves, ready for the game, Morgan running to pick up his inhaler off the table, I stole another glance at the cornfields. They lay, stretched under the sunlight, a labyrinth of green, the sun setting behind them. Rays of brilliant colour streaked across the sky, casting the garden and fields in red and orange.

Bo stood, bat clutched firmly in her hands, as Morgan bowled it. From Merrill's watchful eye, I had the feeling he'd cautioned his nephew to go gently on his sister. I waited, watching the swing of his hand, the movement of the ball as it flew into the air.

Bo's bat made contact with the ball on her first swing.

It took me a moment to blink before I realised she was already running. And that the ball had flown a good distance away.

Merrill was cheering his niece on-apparently forgetting she was supposed to be his rival. Even Morgan, racing to grab the ball, spared her a quick smile as she raced round the bases, her little fists pumping like pistons. To the side, my parents and Graham yelled similar words of encouragement as she rounded the bases, her little eyes narrow with determination.

I jumped up and down, indicating the fourth base as she neared me. A bit further, a bit further...

Bo slammed her hand onto the base. "Did it!"

I hollered her name, picking her up and whirling her around. "Nice one, Bo!" Similar cheers were breaking out from the side-even from Merrill, who had apparently entirely forgotten whose side he was supposed to be on. He ruffled Morgan's head, a quick consolation for my nephew, who stepped forward, eyes fixing mine with a look of mischief.

"I'm not going to go so easy on you," Morgan told me, lips twitching in a grin. I raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't expect you to." I caught a quick smile flickering across his mouth, just as he threw the ball.

I took a swing and hit it.

No-one was more surprised than I was. Merrill's mouth actually dropped open. It was only Bo hitting my arm and screaming "Run!" that tipped me off I needed to get moving.

As I raced around the bases, with Morgan and Bo's laughter echoing in my ears, and the feeling of the grass under my feet, all I could focus on, as I neared the fourth base, was the cornfields. They were there, the same way they'd always been. The shapes of last year were long gone, grown over, vanished. But I could still see them. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see them.

I slammed the fourth base with my hand. "Home run!"

Bo squealed, throwing her arms around my waist. I kissed her head, and Merrill wandered over to me, sliding his arms around my shoulders. He brushed his lips across mine, in a quick kiss. I smiled, leaning back. "Trying to distract me?" The words came out low, quiet and Merrill's eyes widened, his lips curving into a grin. "Never."

Morgan picked up the ball, raising an eyebrow at me. "You wait." He nodded his head to further affirm his threat. "That was just warming up." I suppressed a laugh as I turned back to Bo, heading back to the base. She positioned herself, hands clamped around the bat handle, eyes narrow, ready.

Maybe we'd never know if they'd come back. Maybe we couldn't afford to worry about it. I'd heard once that you should live for the day. And that seemed pretty appropriate right about now.

I didn't know what could happen in the future. But I couldn't afford to waste time worrying about it today.

So I turned my back on the cornfields. And I concentrated on cheering with the others, yelling out words of encouragement to Bo, as she hit her second ball, shrieking with the others-even Morgan, this time-as she began to round the bases, the ball flying through the air, towards Merrill, whose eye caught mine as he smiled. Bo flew round the bases and I could hear the laughter of my parents, their own cheers and louder than anyone, Graham as he cheered on his daughter, watching her run towards me, towards another home run.

Live for today. And this seemed a pretty good day to live for.

Bo hurtled headlong into my arms, and a cheer erupted from my throat as I lifted her up. Merrill broke out laughing, still panting from where he'd been chasing the ball and threw his arm around my shoulders, pressing a kiss to my niece's cheek. Morgan too laughed, reluctantly patting his sister's shoulder, and sending me a quick smile. Graham swung himself to his feet, and came over to join us, hugging his daughter close. My parents remained sitting, their eyes thoughtful, amused, as they watched us.

The corn crops rustled softly behind us. Merrill gave me a quick hug, and Bo slipped her hand into mine, Morgan's hand on her shoulder, as Graham ruffled his daughter's hair. I moved in front of Bo, taking the proffered bat. Merrill caught my eye and gave me a quick wink, as Morgan's arm moved once again.

The sound of the bat hitting the ball was the only thing I knew. And then I was running, around the bases, the laughter echoing in my ears. The ground pounded under my feet and I could feel the sunlight, brilliant across the horizon as I ran, further and further away from the cornfields with each step, circuiting back towards my family.

**And that's it. That's the end of the first one. Wah. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed that. Once again, a big, big thank you to anyone who read this, favourited, reviewed, alerted-you guys kept me going. Thank you for that. And this has been one of my favourite things to ever write. Thank you so much. **

**Here's the soundtrack, for those of you who want to give it a listen. Right, these were just the songs I enjoyed when I was writing it. It doesn't mean they're songs that everyone else will enjoy or think suit the story. This was purely a personal choice. So if you don't like them, that's up to you. I'm not saying everyone has to. These are just what I enjoyed and what helped me. And yes, my music taste is pretty diverse, as you'll probably tell from the choices.**

**Ominous**

**Could It Be Another Change? by the Samples**

**Rotterdam by the Beautiful South**

**Cracking by Suzanne Vega**

**Fear of the Dark by Iron Maiden**

**Deer in the Headlights by Owl City**

**Hard Believer by First Aid Kit-I love the fact this song's about faith and a lack of faith. It kind of reminded me of Signs when I first heard it.**

**Please, Please, Please, Let Me by Slow Moving Millie**

**In the Cornfields**

**The Dangling Conversation by Simon and Garfunkel**

**Schizophrenia by Sonic Youth**

**Sing by Travis**

**Play With Fire by the Birthday Massacre**

**Midnight by the Birthday Massacre**

**Nighttime**

**Love Cats by the Cure**

**Slippery People by Talking Heads**

**When I Was a Boy by Dar Williams-just reminded me of Isabelle always wanting to be included and not left out because she's a girl.**

**Don't Fear the Reaper by Blue Oyster Cult-this is one of my favourite songs ever. And I thought it went well with where Graham and Merrill are running around outside, before everyone's seriously scared, while there's still some fun in the whole thing.**

**Bad Reputation by Joan Jett and the Blackhearts-I don't know why but this helped.**

**Horror Show by the Birthday Massacre**

**Questions, Questions and More Questions**

**Should I Stay or Should I Go by the Clash**

**Hounds of Love by Kate Bush-for some reason, this always reminded me of Isabelle's mental battles, of her fighting the thoughts in her head.**

**Absolutely (Story of a Girl) by Nine Days**

**Gives You Hell by the All-American Rejects**

**Run by Vampire Weekend**

**Welcome to the Jungle by Guns N' Roses**

**Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day**

**Let the Flames Begin by Paramore-this always reminded me of the beginning of the whole hysteria, the way everything ignites.**

**A Trip and a Reminder**

**If You Talk Too Much (My Head Will Explode) by People in Planes-reminds me of Isabelle's initial relationship with her mother.**

**I Wanna Be Sedated by the Ramones**

**Begin Again by Taylor Swift**

**Belong by the Pains of Being Pure At Heart**

**Paperback Writer by the Beatles-this just reminded me of the bookshop.**

**Back In Your Head by Tegan and Sara**

**Little Lover's So Polite by the Silversun Pickups-this just reminded me of Isabelle's memories.**

**I Am A Rock by Simon and Garfunkel**

**High School Never Ends by Bowling for Soup-the whole encounter with Lionel Pritchard reminded me of this song.**

**Beat It by Michael Jackson**

**There She Goes by the La's**

**Monster by Paramore-this reminded me of the moment they saw Ray in the restaurant. Even though I don't see Ray as a monster, I think at that point Isabelle doesn't feel too well towards him.**

**Hard to Explain**

**I Wanna Live by the Ramones**

**Attack by 30 Seconds to Mars-reminds me again, of Isabelle's thought battles.**

**Ooh Child by Beth Norton-Isabelle's whole conversation with Bo reminded me of this song.**

**Dog Days are Over by Florence and the Machine**

**Thirteen by Big Star-it sort of reminds me of how Isabelle and Merrill start to talk to each other more, start to feel more for each other. Just the sweetness of the song.**

**Nightswimming by R E M**

**Heavy Storm by First Aid Kit**

**Blue by the Birthday Massacre**

**Whispers in the Dark**

**Fire Ant by Alex Winston**

**Try Not to Breathe by R E M-just reminded me of Isabelle struggling not to let Merrill and Graham know she's awake.**

**Why Can't I by Liz Phair-this whole thing reminded me of Merrill and Isabelle. I kept grinning every time I listened to it.**

**Misery Business by Paramore-the whole thing where Isabelle's listening to Merrill's story about Randa McKinney**

**The Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel**

**Heartbeats by Jose Gonzalez-this song's beautiful. And I think it covers the sadness Isabelle feels for her sister and Graham.**

**Asleep by the Smiths**

**Suzanne by Leonard Cohen**

**Whispers in the Dark by Skillet-I had to have this one in.**

**Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush**

**Learning to Fall**

**Teenage Angst by Placebo-all of Isabelle's memories, plus the conversation with her mother, even though she's not a teenager any more.**

**I Cried for You by Katie Melua-when Merrill's comforting her on the stairs. D'aww.**

**Velvet Elvis by Alex Winston**

**Broken by Seether-again, some of Isabelle's memories.**

**Prettiest Eyes by the Beautiful South-OK. This kind of reminds me of what Merrill's thinking about when he's watching her speak and he keeps staring at her. And as she mentions a few times, she can't look away from his eyes. D'awww.**

**She Loves You by the Beatles-ha ha, this reminds me of Morgan and Bo picking up on the romance between Isabelle and Merrill before they do themselves.**

**Anthems for a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl by Broken Social Scene-this reminded me of Isabelle as a teenager. This song always reminds me of the beauty of the teenage years, as well as some of the pain.**

**Flying Dutchman by Tori Amos-reminds me of Isabelle as a kid.**

**At Seventeen by Janis Ian-I think this would have been Isabelle's go-to song as a teenager. Any teenager who's ever felt like an outcast should listen to this.**

**Boys Don't Cry by the Cure-this reminds me of Merrill. Always reminds me of Merrill and how he's trying to be strong for everyone else.**

**Helena by My Chemical Romance**

**Dreams by Fleetwood Mac-this song always reminded me of Isabelle and I'm not sure why.**

**Marianne by Tori Amos-this definitely reminded me of how Isabelle feels about Colleen's death.**

**Wonderwall by Oasis**

**Just My Imagination by the Cranberries-I love this song and it reminds me of Isabelle and Merrill again.**

**Give Me Strength by Snow Patrol-again, I think this is part of Isabelle and Merrill falling for each other-each gives the other more strength. Sounds cheesy, but aww.**

**Come on, Get Higher by Matt Nathanson-and yeah, this is what I imagined playing during the first kiss scene. Oh God, I love this song for Isabelle and Merrill. I love this song.**

**Ignorance by Paramore-I think that shows the shock at the end of the chapter. It sounded dramatic to me, at least.**

**The Waiting Game**

**Nuit Avec Une Amie by Standard Fare-I'm not sure how this song reminds me of Signs, but it does.**

**The Worrying Kind by the Ark-er, yeah, this always reminds me of Isabelle. And how she NEVER. STOPS. WORRYING.**

**Demons by Guster-this reminded me both of the aliens and Isabelle's thoughts.**

**Perfect by the Smashing Pumpkins**

**Hurt by Johnny Cash-I think this is one of the saddest songs ever. And I think it summarises how they all feel without Colleen.**

**More than Words by Extreme-another Isabelle and Merrill thing. I just love the song, and it sounds like a love story in itself.**

**Love by the Smashing Pumpkins**

**Meds by Placebo-as things start to go downhill, I think Isabelle's thoughts are affected as well.**

**Father and Son by Cat Stephens-this reminded me of Isabelle's phone call with her father. Even though she's obviously not male, I think it sounded similar to their relationship, sometimes.**

**Somebody That I Used to Know by Gotye, featuring Kimbra-just reminded me of how Graham had changed following Colleen's death**

**Everlong by the Foo Fighters-this reminds me of the scene in the barn. You know which scene I mean. It also reminds me of later on, as everyone starts losing their temper as the tension mounts.**

**Thank You by Alanis Morrisette**

**Vanilla Twilight by Owl City**

**Playing God by Paramore-reminded me of Graham's loss of faith.**

**Skinny Love by Bon Iver-this is one of the saddest songs, I've heard, and reminded me of when they're all hugging at the dinner table. **

**Farewell Whispers**

**Butterfly Culture by Benjamin Francis Leftwich**

**Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol**

**Unfamiliar by the Birthday Massacre**

**Atlas Hands by Benjamin Francis Leftwich-this reminded me of all the farewells, and it just conveyed the sadness quite effectively.**

**Say I'm Sorry by Theory of a Deadman**

**The Kill by 30 Seconds to Mars**

**Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls**

**Nightmare**

**Remember Me by the Birthday Massacre**

**Riot by Three Days Grace**

**Looking Glass by the Birthday Massacre**

**The Diary of Jane by Breaking Benjamin-all of these four just reminded me of the fear in the basement.**

**This Woman's Work by Kate Bush-this reminded me of the scene with Graham and Morgan. This song is one of the saddest I've ever heard.**

**Breathing by Kate Bush-kind of obvious, reminds me of the asthma attack.**

**Open Your Eyes by Snow Patrol-both reminded me of Graham's pleading and also of Isabelle waking up from her nightmare.**

**Radioactive by Imagine Dragons-Isabelle imagining the apocalypse.**

**Dirty Little Secret by the All-American Rejects-just Isabelle and Merrill's dare game, with them trying to lighten the atmosphere.**

**Kathy's Song by Simon and Garfunkel-another reminder of Colleen.**

**Holocene by Bon Iver-OK. This is, without a doubt, a song that never fails to make you cry. It is this good. I always use it for sad scenes. And this is just the song when Isabelle tells Merrill about feeling guilty. I even cried writing the scene. This song is heartbreaking.**

**Confronting**

**Bubbly by Colbie Cailliat-another Isabelle and Merrill thing.**

**Careful by Paramore**

**The Wolves by Ben Howard**

**I Caught Myself by Paramore-yes, the whole kissing scene. Yeah, this song reminded me of it.**

**Half-Mast by Empire of the Sun**

**Come Back to Me by Trading Yesterday**

**Alibis by the Birthday Massacre**

**Czarina by the Smashing Pumpkins-I don't know why this one worked for me.**

**Running Up That Hill by Placebo-this reminded me of the whole "realization" moment for everyone.**

**Emergency by Paramore**

**Everlong (acoustic) by the Foo Fighters**

**Holocene by Bon Iver-the scene with Morgan on the grass.**

**Nineteen by Tegan and Sara**

**Shine by Benjamin Francis Leftwich-just the hope at the end of the chapter.**

**Forwards(and this is the longest soundtrack, for some reason. If anyone's still reading.)**

**Waterfall by the Stone Roses-again, reminds me of Isabelle.**

**We're All in Love by the New York Dolls**

**Close to Me by the Cure**

**Walking on a Dream by Empire of the Sun**

**Swim Until You Can't See Land by Frightened Rabbit**

**Do You Remember by Jack Johnson-this song reminds me so much of Merrill and Isabelle.**

**Two-Headed Boy by Neutral Milk Hotel**

**Please Forgive Me by David Gray**

**Spit on a Stranger by Pavement-this and the two above all reminded me of the meeting with Ray.**

**Cello Song by Nick Drake**

**Northern Sky by Nick Drake-Isabelle and Merrill again.**

**Stay Stay Stay by Taylor Swift-guess who.**

**What Difference Does It Make? by the Smiths-this reminds me of Isabelle's unease about the whole thing and there's nothing like the Smiths and Morrissey to inject a little unease.**

**Everything With You by the Pains of Being Pure At Heart**

**Snow (Hey Oh) by the Red Hot Chili Peppers**

**Strong Enough by Sheryl Crow-again, Isabelle and Merrill.**

**You Could Be Happy by Snow Patrol-I think part of this reminds me of Isabelle's father.**

**Life in Technicolor by Coldplay-reminds me of Isabelle's life improving.**

**Your World by Declan O'Rourke-oh jeez, if you listen, you'll know who this reminds me of.**

**So In Love by the Icarus Account-this is the moment where Isabelle and Merrill say they love each other. I love this moment.**

**Make Love to Me Forever by Snow Patrol**

**Walk on the Wild Side by Lou Reed**

**Dakota by the Stereophonics**

**Rotterdam by the Beautiful South-it was right at the start and it reminded me of coming full circle but growing at the same time. Get me, it's profound.**

**Anyway, if you could be bothered reading all that, that's the soundtrack that helped me.**

**Once again, thanks so much to everyone who read this. I've loved writing it so much. When the sequel goes up, I'll hope to see you all again and maybe some new faces too.**

**Happy Reading-and see you all in fanfiction land.**

**hallowgirlfrommars x:)**


End file.
